Carrot Cake
by Worryingly Innocent
Summary: AU. Waitress Belle French gazes out of the window towards the law offices over the way, wondering if their charismatic new arrival, the mysterious Mr Gold, will ever step into the little café where she works… Rumbelle with a side of Red Cricket, and many cameos from other key players. [Complete]
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **AU. Waitress Belle French gazes out of the window towards the law offices over the way, wondering if their charismatic new arrival, the mysterious Mr Gold, will ever step into the little café where she works… Rumbelle with a side of Red Cricket, and many cameos from other key players.

**Disclaimer: **Alas, I do not own Once Upon A Time. I don't even own any carrot cake.

**Note:** Blimey, it's a while since I wrote a full-scale AU, and this is my first ever OUAT one. Before we begin, I would like to make it clear that I have set this fic in **England**. It won't make much difference to the story over all, but since I know the way of life of my home country far more than that of America, I'm a lot more comfortable setting AU's here. I hope everyone enjoys it none the less!

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**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter One**

"Belle. Belle. Belle!"

"Sorry, what?"

Ruby rolled her eyes and shook a dishcloth in her colleague's face.

"I know you're wrapped up in fantasies of Mr Gold's desk and what the two of you could be doing on it, but we do have a café to clean, you know!"

Feeling her face flush bright red, Belle tore herself away from the bar stool by the window that she had been glued to ever since closing time, waiting to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man from over the way.

"Is it really that obvious?" she asked, taking the dishcloth from Ruby and spraying cleaner on the nearest table, rubbing the wooden top vigorously to try and work up an excuse for the blush rising in her cheeks.

"Yes," said Ruby simply. "You spend every spare moment gazing out of that window, and at the weekends, when his office is closed and you've no chance of seeing him, you're constantly scribbling in that notebook of yours, which you aren't always very quick at snapping shut when Emma and I are in the vicinity." Ruby raised an eyebrow. "For someone so sweet and demure, you can certainly write a filthy story."

"Ruby!" Belle moaned, burying her face in her hands, oblivious to the dishcloth. "That's private!"

"You should write a novel," Ruby continued, turning the chairs upside down onto the tables Belle had just wiped and blithely ignoring her friend's embarrassment. "You could give _Fifty Shades_ a run for its money."

"Ruby!" Belle decided that the best form of defence was to attack like with like. "You can't tell me that you don't have your own little fantasies about Dr Hopper's consulting couch," she said. "Don't think I haven't seen the way you always put extra chocolate on his cappuccino."

"Yes, well…" Ruby faltered. She was a serial dater, proud of never tying herself down to one man, and to be caught going gooey over the timid ginger psychiatrist, a regular customer of theirs, was terribly damaging to her reputation. "At least I don't write them down! I'm amazed you noticed anything, since you're so busy trying to become the next Anaïs Nin." She flicked washing up water at Belle, who held up both hands.

"Oh no. We are not getting into another washing up war. The last time that happened, we were here half the night trying to clean up the mess."

"You're right. It was interesting explaining the swimming carrot cake to Granny the next day though."

Belle rolled her eyes at the memory of Ruby's excuses and the two women continued to put the café to bed. Presently, Ruby looked up at the clock on the wall in the corner and gave a yelp.

"Oh, crumbs," she said, pulling off her apron and unbuttoning her uniform shirt to reveal a rather more dangerously cut top beneath. "I'm late for a very important date with a very important Steve. I can leave you to lock up, can't I?"

"Of course."

Ruby rushed into the back room and emerged a split second later, hopping as she tried to wedge her heels on.

"See you tomorrow!" she called over her shoulder as she skittered out of the café, flat working shoes in one hand and lipstick in the other. Belle shook her head in despair, performing a quick final check of the café before collecting her coat and bag and switching off the lights. She patted the front of the worn canvas satchel that she'd been carting books around in since school, and breathed a sigh of relief on finding her notebook still in its rightful place. Belle frowned, surely what she wrote wasn't _too_ bad… And in hindsight, Ruby's suggestion wasn't quite such a bad idea. From the half-ton of erotica currently flooding the market, it was clear that sex sold.

She'd have to change the names though. And never actually meet her publishers in person in case she had to explain her bright red face to them. On second thoughts, she'd keep her little dreams to herself, and keep a sharper eye on Ruby and Emma's whereabouts in future.

Belle left the café and locked it, looking up at the premises opposite. Separated by two doors and less than twenty feet of covered walkway at the entrance to the shopping precinct, and yet it might as well have been three miles of solid concrete for all the progress she'd made. She crossed over the deserted pedestrian street and ran her fingers over the simple gold plaque set to the side of the door opposite the one she had just locked.

_Guildhall Law_, read the sign, and underneath, the names of the seven solicitors who worked there. One name shone a little brighter than the rest, a little newer. _Mr R Gold. _

She traced the lettering with her index finger. Mr Gold had been working out of Guildhall Law for three months, two weeks and a day. She remembered the first time she saw him, standing outside the door with a box of files under one arm, leaning heavily on his cane. She'd been clearing tables by the window and stopped to appraise the new arrival – the office had been expecting a new partner to take the place of old Mr Fothergill (God rest his departed soul, as Granny would say) for weeks, and everyone in the precinct had been looking forward to getting a nosy at the latest addition to their ranks. He'd smiled at her through the glass, she'd smiled back and then ducked under the table on the pretence of a dropped fork to hide her blush. By the time she'd composed herself and peered over the top of the table again, she'd just had time to catch a final fleeting glimpse of his back as Mr Fox, the senior partner, welcomed him into the offices and the receptionist shut the door behind them.

She'd watched out for him ever since, hoping that perhaps, if she was lucky, he'd glance up at the right time and flash her another smile, or at least give some indication of recognition. Sometimes she was lucky, and on those occasions she found herself grinning like an idiot for the rest of the day. For all the smiles passed through the window, however, he had never actually come in, and that was what was bothering her. She felt that until that boundary had been crossed, nothing could come of their almost flirtation.

Belle ran her fingers over his name again. If he wouldn't make the first move, perhaps she would have to. Ruby and Emma and even Astrid had told her to often enough.

"For crying out loud," Ruby had said, exasperated, after catching her staring out of the window yet again. "Just pop over and tell him you need him to sort out your divorce! It's even true!"

It was true, unfortunately. Belle sighed. She'd moved out of the marital home so long ago that she'd almost forgotten that they hadn't done anything about not being legally married any more. Ugh. Why did she have to be reminded of her old life in the middle of imagining herself a new one? She sighed again, and looked at her third finger where the ring used to sit. She and Gary had been childhood sweethearts, and since everyone had expected them to get married, no-one had been surprised when they'd finished school and moved in together. But as time had gone on, so Belle had found herself wanting to move on, to go forward in her life, and Gary seemed to be holding her back; unable to understand why she was no longer content with the life that they had always had.

Belle had been on the verge of breaking it off when she'd discovered she was pregnant, and then everything had changed. Gary's father had insisted that the child was born in wedlock, and the matter had been taken out of Belle's hands entirely. A quick registry office job and a bit of a do at the local pub, and suddenly she was a wife.

She had miscarried two weeks after the wedding. It was an omen, Belle had thought darkly as she lay in her hospital bed, refusing to see anyone, even Gary. It was a sign from her body that she wasn't meant to be with this man. The marriage lasted just under a year before Belle had given up and moved back in with her dad, but she would always maintain that it had been over within four months. The pressure of being bound to each other legally and with no bond of mutual love in the form of a baby caused what had been a slowly fading flame to become a rapidly deteriorating, fractious blaze of arguments and not-quite-make-ups.

After sixth months of miserably failing to start a new relationship in a whirl of harebrained rebound dating that would have put Ruby to shame, she'd moved a hundred miles south and taken a job at Granny's, determining to swear off men for the foreseeable future. One year, two months and eight days later, Mr Gold had appeared and turned this idea on its head.

Maybe the others were right. Maybe she should be bold and make the first move for once. But maybe not today. Today, she'd just go home and curl up with her books, like normal. After all, she told herself, it had gone half-six, and no-one would be in the office…

"Hello. Can I help you?"

Belle looked up, alarmed by the voice from the doorway, and found herself face to face with the object of her thoughts. His expression was one of amusement as she floundered for words.

"I, erm…"

To be honest, it was the accent that had thrown her. All the other solicitors, when they did on occasion deign to come into the café instead of sending the secretaries, had accents that could cut glass, and Gold's thick Glaswegian brogue had startled her. He was obviously proud of his roots, just as she had striven to keep her own Australian twang since leaving the country at the age of seven.

"You're the girl from the café, aren't you?" he said presently, nodding over her head towards the darkened shop. "You dropped a fork the first time I saw you."

"Yes, yes I did." Trust him to remember that part. "You should pop across some time. We make the best carrot cake in the town, according to one of the online city guides. Well, I say 'we', I mean Granny. It's her café after all. But she doesn't do much running around these days, just the baking. And she's not actually my granny, she's Ruby's, and…" She tailed off, acutely embarrassed. "Sorry. I'm gabbling."

He laughed.

"Just a little, Miss…"

"French," Belle supplied quickly. "Belle French."

Well, that was a good start. She'd already had a bout of verbal diarrhoea and now she was lying to him. French was her maiden name, and she wasn't technically a Miss.

"Mr Gold." He let his cane rest in the doorframe and offered his hand. Belle took it, aware that her own hands were cold and clammy from cleaning and his were dry and warm. "So," he continued, "can I be of assistance, Miss French?"

"No, I, erm, I didn't realise anyone was still in," she stammered. Darn it, she'd been caught out. Now he was definitely going to accuse her of being a stalker.

"That's all right. Everyone else has gone home. I just needed to finish some things." Gold gestured to the ceiling with his cane. "I saw you from upstairs."

"Just… being nosy," Belle said. "We like to keep an eye on our neighbours."

"Perhaps I should start keeping a closer eye on mine. Carrot cake, you say?"

"Best in town." She paused awkwardly. "Well, I'd better be off, then. Hopefully we'll see you soon, Mr Gold."

"I'll make sure of it, Miss French."

She turned away and left the precinct, glancing over her shoulder as she stepped out from under the cover. He was still watching her, and smiled before he closed the door.

Belle waited until she'd rounded the corner before letting out an almighty groan. If that was her first move, then she had unmistakeably fluffed it. She wondered what to tell Ruby, or whether she should even mention it to her friend. Hmmm. Best to keep silent, and wait and see what happened. No use in getting her hopes up. But still, he had said he would call in soon. And she could always dream…

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**To be continued**


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** I'd just like to say a big thank you to my guest reviewers whom I couldn't thank in person. Glad you liked it, folks! Chapter two is now here, and if anyone's worried about the seeming lack of Gold in this one, don't worry, he'll be back with gusto in chapter three.

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**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Two**

"Belle, you are looking at the door every two-and-a-half minutes. Are you expecting someone?"

Belle jumped at Emma's voice but recovered herself quickly.

"You mean apart from Ruby? Where has she got to? The lunch rush is starting and she's half an hour late already…"

"Belle, as worrying as Ruby's lateness is, it's not unheard of. You are definitely looking out for someone coming in, and have been doing ever since you arrived at half-past eight. Could this someone possibly be a certain approaching-middle-age lawyer-with-a-limp from over the way?"

"Emma!" Belle began, but before she could go any further, the doors to the café were flung open and a familiar voice was heard to wail.

"Pongo's ill!"

Everything in the café stopped, and everyone looked at Ruby in the doorway. She was still wearing last night's date outfit, and she looked absolutely distraught. Belle and Emma exchanged looks.

"Pongo?" Emma mouthed. "Last night's date?"

"No, I think that was Steve," Belle mouthed back.

"Ruby, who on earth is Pongo?" asked Emma, waving their friend over to them as the café returned to its previous business. Belle finished serving the customer who had been waiting patiently at the till during Ruby's dramatic declaration, and the three waitresses clustered around the counter.

"Archie's dog!" Ruby moaned. "He's a Dalmatian, called Pongo, and he's ill!"

"Ruby, who on earth is Archie?" asked Emma, still confused.

"Dr Hopper," said Ruby in a perfectly matter-of-fact manner. "Didn't you know his name? I bumped into him last night on my way home from my date, he nearly ran me over actually, because he was on his way to the vet's with Pongo, so I went with him to give him some moral support – I mean, I was there and I wasn't doing anything else – and I've been with them ever since. It's serious stuff, they had to operate and everything. Poor Archie, he's devastated, he's had him ever since he was a puppy…"

"Excuse me," said an impatient voice behind Ruby. She jumped out of the way and Emma quickly served the next customers. The rush began in earnest at that point and Ruby was seconded into working her shift in her stilettos to help them get through all the orders. It was coming up to two o'clock before any significant lull came and she could tell them the entirety of her tale.

"The date went all right; Steve was lovely but a bit on the boring side, and he's so short… But he did pay, which is something. Anyway, it was about ten and I was crossing the road to get the night bus home when I was nearly run over. The driver stopped and I was going to give him a piece of my mind when I saw it was Archie, and I saw how worried he looked, and there was Pongo in the back, covered with a blanket looking so helpless and pathetic. And once Archie explained what was happening, well, I just _had_ to offer to go with him and make sure he was ok."

"Oh yes," said Emma wryly, nodding. "You _had_ to."

"Had to what?"

Belle turned to see Ashley waiting for service at the counter. The younger woman had started working as a secretary for Guildhall Law just after Belle had begun at Granny's, and they'd bonded over a particularly disastrous morning of spilled coffee and lost paperwork.

"Had to go and help a dog in distress," said Emma. "What can I get you, Ashley? We haven't seen you for months; they've been sending Marina in for the coffees. The usual haul for all your charges too busy doing legal things to buy their own beverages?"

"No, lunch hour for once." Ashley exhaled heavily. "I'll be glad of the day that this one comes and I get out of there." She patted her pregnant stomach.

"That bad, huh?"

Ashley nodded.

"Sid's in court all week so he's been telephoning in contradictory orders left, right and centre; Her Majesty's upped her game as lead candidate for Bitch of the Year; Fox is more concerned with planning his retirement than seeing his clients; and Gold's being even more of a terror than usual because he's at the hospital this afternoon." She paused. "Everyone else is all right. I'll have a ham sandwich and some carrot cake, please."

Belle rang it up as Emma went round the corner into the kitchen area to prepare the sandwich. Something inside her twisted at the thought of Gold being described as a terror, especially when he had seemed so pleasant the previous evening... She peered around the partition and caught Emma's attention; Ruby was still chatting to her about her exploits: "He held my hand in the waiting room!" "Who, Pongo?" "No, Archie!".

"Pst!" Belle hissed. "Are you two ok if I take a break now?"

"Sure," said Emma. She looked up from laying slices of ham on the bloomer bread and grinned. "Go and pump Ashley for information on her terror."

Belle rolled her eyes, extremely annoyed that Emma had pre-empted her exactly. She cut a generous wedge of carrot cake and brought it over to Ashley, who'd eased herself into a chair by the window and was leaning back with her eyes closed.

"Thanks, Belle," she said as the other woman slipped into the seat opposite her.

"How long now?" Belle asked, nodding towards Ashley's belly.

"A month and a bit. I finish work on Friday. It's going to be bliss." She snorted. "I bet no-one's remembered and I'll get an angry call from Fox on my first day off asking where the hell I am."

Belle laughed.

"Get Sean onto him."

"I intend to."

Emma brought over her sandwich and Ashley attacked it with gusto.

"So…" Belle began, unsure quite how to begin a surreptitious enquiry. "Mr Gold's settling in, then?"

Ashley nodded.

"Part of the furniture already. Fox loves him; it means he gets to advertise another specialist. We've got three now, and, as Fox never fails to remind us, that's more than any other high-street firm in the area." She pounced on a bit of ham that had dropped out of the sandwich.

"What's Mr Gold then?" Belle asked. She knew that Guildhall could already boast accredited specialists in contract and personal injury cases.

"Family," said Ashley. "Divorce and children."

"Oh." Belle was taken aback. "That's… unexpected."

"I know, you wouldn't think it to look at him. I had him pegged as the million-a-go contract type, but no."

There was a pause. Belle bit the bullet.

"You said he was a terror."

Ashley sighed, and pulled her cake towards her.

"He's got one hell of a temper on him. He can't afford to lose it with clients so he loses it with us instead. He doesn't really shout much, but I've heard him throw things. He's a perfectionist and bloody relentless with it, which is where I'm at loggerheads with him, because I'm, well, not. And he's even snappier than usual today because he's got a hospital appointment about his knee and he hates doctors."

Belle laughed.

"I bet he and Mills get on like a house on fire. She's never out of hospitals to visit her clients!"

"Oh, they hate each other's guts," said Ashley cheerfully. "They're constantly needling each other. It's about fifty-fifty as to who gets the upper hand." She sighed. "He's a good lawyer, Belle. He'll take any case as long as he's paid for it, unlike Fox who'll only deal in contracts, and the juniors who won't touch any remotely nasty criminal cases with a barge pole. But like I said, he mainly does the family stuff, and, despite everything, he's great with kids." Ashley grinned and tapped Belle's hand with her cake fork. "Excellent husband material."

Belle groaned and rested her head in her hands.

"How much have Emma and Ruby told you?" she asked, thinking of the notebook.

"Oh, enough. It's more your body language that's the main culprit, though. And your subtle questioning isn't all that subtle."

"Oh… bother."

"It's ok, I've only got a few more minutes as I need to go to the chemist as well. We won't go into the details of your love life."

"More like the lack of it," Belle muttered. "Ok, so who else's love lives are you keeping tabs on?"

Ashley leaned in as much as she could with her bump.

"I reckon that Sid and Her Majesty are screwing," she said conspiratorially.

Belle raised an eyebrow.

"Sidney Glass and Regina Mills."

"Yes," confirmed Ashley.

"Screwing."

"Yes."

Belle shook her head.

"Now that's one mental image I don't want again in a hurry," she said. "Seriously? Sid and Regina?"

Ashley gave a knowing nod.

"Caught them in Sid's office standing a _little_ bit too close to have just been having a friendly chat between colleagues."

"Hmm." Belle wasn't entirely convinced. Ashley got up to leave.

"Well, I'll see you around. Hopefully the next time you see me, all this excess baggage will be on the outside." She paused, grinning wickedly. "Shall I give Gold your love?"

"No!" Belle exclaimed. "Ashley, I'll kill you!"

"Gold can instruct your case when you're done for murder, then," Ashley said. "Perfect. Bye!"

Belle waved but made no reply. Emma had just left in order to pick up her son from school and Ruby was nowhere to be seen, so it looked like her break was over and she was manning the café single-handedly. She went back behind the counter and leaned on it with a sigh. As much as she wanted to indulge in a little dreaming, she should really be more concerned with Ruby's whereabouts. She gave a final, longing glance at the entrance, knowing thanks to Ashley's information that there'd be no use in door-watching this afternoon.

She squealed as two skinny arms grabbed her from behind and squeezed.

"Oh, Belle, everything's all right; Pongo's going to be fine. I just had a call from Archie, who'd just had a call from the vet."

"So that's where you got to," said Belle as Ruby detached her limpet hold from round her waist.

"Yeah, I was talking to him in the fridge. What? Don't give me that look. It's quieter in there."

Belle made no comment on the subject.

"Does this mean you can go home and get changed now?" she asked.

"Well, no, I left my other shoes in Archie's car." Ruby grinned. "I swear that it wasn't intentional. I swear. I was just in a bit of a flap because I was late."

"That seems to be the story of your life at the moment," Belle observed drily. Ruby paid her tone no heed.

"Something very good came of it though," she said. "I've got Archie's number now."

Belle rolled her eyes.

"Trust you to get a date out of a crisis."

"I haven't got a date!" Ruby batted her with a tea towel. "Yet. And I gave him my number so that he could let me know that Pongo was ok."

Belle half-believed her friend. Ruby _was_ a huge dog-lover, no-one could deny it.

"Ok, I'll let it slide."

"But since the opportunity's there, of course…"

"Ruby, you are incorrigible."

"I know." She leaned on the counter beside Belle, waiting for the next customers. "Are you getting anywhere with yours yet?"

Belle considered telling her the events of the previous evening, tame as they seemed in comparison to Ruby's adventures. She shook her head. Ruby patted her shoulder.

"One day," she said brightly, before going over to take up her place at the coffee machine as the next customers entered.

Belle couldn't help another quick glance across at the law office. One day. Hopefully soon. If only she'd known he was a divorce lawyer before. Ruby's suggestion would have been perfect. Oh well. What was done was done. She'd cross that bridge when she came to it. If she came to it.

She shook herself and focused on her work; there was no use moping about now. She'd gone about half an hour blissfully free from unwanted thoughts or regrets when Ruby's voice broke through her carefully constructed 'concentrating very hard on the washing up' mentality.

"Oh, Archie, you shouldn't have! Thank you, you're a lifesaver."

Belle peered around the kitchen partition to see Dr Hopper standing at the counter, holding up Ruby's working flats that she'd left in his car. He looked even more crumpled than usual but definitely happy, and Belle thought that she could detect a small expression of triumph in his smile at being seen to be doing something gallant and chivalrous for Ruby. Her friend took the shoes and leaned over the counter to kiss the doctor's cheek, causing him to blush a bright red that clashed with his hair horribly.

"What can I get you?" she asked. "You must need something after the fraught twenty-four hours you've had," she added.

"I, erm, well, I really just came in with your shoes," Archie began.

"Oh, nonsense," said Ruby. "Sit down and I'll bring you a cappuccino. On the house." She called over her shoulder to Belle as she skidded over to the coffee machine. "I'm having a break now, Belle!"

"Honestly…"

"If you can take a break to chat to our clientele, then so can I!"

Belle dried off her hands and came out to the counter to keep an eye on the café whilst Ruby was engaged in the far more important occupation of flirting with the psychiatrist. She watched as her friend sprinkled a double helping of chocolate onto the drink she'd just made and went out into the main shop. Damn Ruby. She made it look so blinking easy…

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**To be continued**


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: **As always, big thanks to the guest reviewers whom I can't thank in person. Cheers, folks!

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Three**

Belle's phone rang, jerking her into consciousness rather suddenly. She peeled her face off the 'Japanese for Beginners' book that she'd fallen asleep whilst studying and blinked a few times, looking at the clock on the TV. It was three in the afternoon; no-one rang her at three in the afternoon because she was generally at work. But today was Thursday, her day off, so it wasn't completely unreasonable. The phone was still trilling persistently, so Belle decided to stop trying to work out who was ringing her and simply find out by picking up and answering.

"Hello?" she said groggily.

"Finally!" Ruby exclaimed. Belle's brow furrowed. Despite her vehement tone, her friend sounded as if she was whispering. "I thought you'd never pick up!"

"I was asleep."

"At this time of an afternoon?"

"Yes, Japanese was proving less than thrilling."

"I'll never understand your obsession with trying to learn Japanese. But leave that aside for the moment, this is important! You'll never guess who just walked in for tea and carrot cake!"

Belle's heart leapt to her mouth. Surely not. Not today. Not when she had spent the entirety of her Wednesday shift looking out for him, the first words out of Emma's mouth to her when she arrived at twelve o'clock being 'he hasn't been in'.

"Go on," she managed.

"Your Golden Wonder himself! And I've got a bone to pick with you, Missie. Two, in fact. Firstly, why didn't you tell me he had that voice?"

"I, erm…"

In the background, Belle heard Astrid laughing.

"You've got your psychiatrist, Ruby," the other waitress said.

"I know that! I don't want the man, I just want his voice. You know how I've got a thing for Scottish accents."

"Ruby, why are you whispering?" Belle asked, trying to distract herself from the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Because I'm hiding under the counter trying to keep an eye on him through the cake display case. He's sitting at Ashley's usual table so I can just see him past the flapjacks if I get the right angle."

"You mean you're phoning me whilst he's still there?" Belle yelped.

"Belle, I was dialling your number before Astrid had even taken his tray over."

"Tell me she didn't drop it." Belle crossed her fingers.

"You have no faith in our little Butterfingers," said Ruby. "Of course she didn't drop it. She did, however, nearly slice her thumb off making sandwiches earlier. Oh, enough of that, you're distracting me from being mad at you! Why didn't you tell me that you'd spoken to him? Don't deny it, Missie French, because he asked after you. By name."

Belle's stomach performed an impressive loop-the-loop with integrated double somersault.

"He did?"

"Yes, he did. He came in, looked around a bit, and asked 'is Miss French in?' to which I replied 'no, Thursday's her full day off'. Then he ordered and said no more about it. What I want to know, Belle, is how come he knows Miss French if you've never spoken to him."

"Erm…"

"There are customers waiting, Belle. Astrid can't deal with them all on her own and I am not moving from behind the flapjacks until you tell me."

Belle had to relent, and gave a succinct account of Monday night.

"You devil," said Ruby plainly. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't think it was all that momentous," Belle murmured. "Especially compared to your dog-saving exploits."

"Momentous!" Ruby positively exploded. "You had a conversation with the man! Verbal contact is always momentous! Oh, Belle, you are hopeless. I'd give you a lecture on the subject but there's a queue building up. I'm going now, but this conversation isn't over! Bye."

"Bye, Ruby."

Belle hung up and looked down at Japanese for Beginners. He had been in. Mr Gold had come into the café and she hadn't been there. Absolutely typical. Why had he had to pick Thursday, of all days?

She slammed the book shut in a fit of pique but stopped short of tossing it on the ground, one of the ultimate sins when it came to books as far as she was concerned. Belle slumped face down on the sofa with a groan. A small part of her, the niggling part that undermined her self-confidence on a regular basis, told her that he'd planned it; that he'd chosen Thursday specifically because he knew she wouldn't be there and he could avoid her. Perhaps catching her outside his office had unnerved him just enough.

Don't be ridiculous, said the logical part of her brain that was so often overlooked in favour of the irrational. Why would he come into Granny's at all if he was worried she was stalking him? And if he had been watching her closely enough to be able to know when to avoid her, well, that sort of behaviour was even more worrying than her own.

She tried to see it as a good omen – he had been in today to try and see her but hadn't found her, so maybe he'd be in again. Still mentally kicking herself, Belle picked up her book again. Teaching herself Japanese had been a spur of the moment idea when she'd made her New Year's Resolutions, and she wasn't quite sure why she'd done it. She'd probably been a little worse for wear – she'd been out with Ruby so it was more than likely. So far, she could say hello and goodbye and knew her colours, but that was about the limit. Perhaps Japanese wasn't for her.

It certainly wasn't holding her attention today. Belle sighed and shut the book again before getting up and determining to do something useful, like her laundry. She emptied the basket into a holdall, checked she had enough change and set off hauling a week's worth of clothes up the hill towards the laundrette. She was saving up for a washing machine and planned to have a party on the day it arrived. Flopping onto one of the hard plastic seats once her washing was on, Belle closed her eyes and let herself indulge in a momentary flight of fancy. All was not lost, she told herself firmly. The boundary had been crossed, even if she hadn't been there to witness it. Now, things could begin to move forward. The only question was how.

X

Gold rested his head on his desk with a groan. That had gone spectacularly not according to plan. Of all the days, he'd had to pick today, when she wasn't even in. On top of that, he'd made the mistake of asking after her – just in case she was in and hidden in the kitchen doing the washing up. Now, her colleagues would definitely think he was stalking her. The girl who had served him had been watching him through the cake display case for the entire time that he'd been there, and he was pretty sure that she'd been on the phone for most of it, no doubt warning her workmate that the sad old man with the dodgy leg from over the way was trying to make a play for her. Gold sighed. Up until an hour ago, he'd been feeling reasonably good about the whole thing, but now he was on the verge of giving it up as a bad job. For some truly inexplicable reason, the easy confidence with which he conducted his working life seemed to vanish when Belle crossed his mind. He supposed it was because he'd been on his own for too long; he'd forgotten the whys and hows and wherefores of dating and beginning a relationship. And after all, since the… incident, he'd always been content to be alone for more years than he cared to remember.

Until the first morning of his tenure at Guildhall, when he'd seen her watching him through the café window and they'd exchanged a smile. He'd tried to put her out of his mind after that, although they still continued to acknowledge each other through the glass on occasion. He must have been at least fifteen years older than her, probably more, and no matter what else, age was one thing he couldn't change. No, he was too old and set in his ways for her; he came with too many demons. He'd said it himself before – he was a difficult man to love, and he'd passed the stage of his life where he was looking for anything else. And yet, something inside him had still wanted to hope that perhaps, just maybe…

Gold looked up out of his office window, located directly above the front door, and thought back to Monday evening, replaying the events in his mind. He'd been working late to try and finish some outstanding paperwork and had wandered over to the window to stretch his legs when he'd seen her hovering outside the door. A thousand and one possibilities had crossed his mind, each as improbable as the last. She'd injured herself at work and needed someone to sue the café for her; she'd been accused of a crime she hadn't committed and needed a defence lawyer. She'd just wanted to talk to him.

Instinct had sent him downstairs to speak to her, just as instinct had told him that she did genuinely want him to visit the café where she spent most (but evidently not all) of her days. He'd fluffed it a bit when he'd watched her round the corner though, and she'd caught him at it, but all in all he'd thought it had gone rather well. Gold had decided that going over the next day would look slightly too eager, even if cake would cheer up the prospect of the bloody hospital (he couldn't think of the building without the prefix) no end. On Wednesday he'd been too busy, and today, well, today had been a non-starter.

The carrot cake had been very good though. Whichever online city guide said that it was the best in town had probably got it right. Gold turned his attentions to the papers on his desk, shutting Belle out of his mind before he got distracted even further and had to explain to his clients why he'd made absolutely no progress with their cases this week. In the main office outside, a phone rang, and he heard Ashley's voice answer it.

"Hello, Mr Glass. Yes. No. No, Mr Glass, because yesterday you told me that you didn't need it and I ought to put it in the archive box." He could hear her patience wearing thin. "Yes, I can get the information for you but I'll have to go upstairs and find it because I don't have the file to hand. Yes, Mr Glass. No, Ms Mills is out visiting a client. Yes. No. Goodbye, Mr Glass."

Gold heard her put the phone down and give a well-deserved howl of frustration. He grinned. Much as he might not make life easy for the secretary that he and Sidney shared, at least he didn't change his instructions every five minutes.

"I'm going upstairs," said Ashley's voice, likely through gritted teeth, to the other occupants of the open office. "I may be some time. If Gold comes out and kicks up a fuss about where I am, he can either accept that I'm being eaten alive by the archive box or shove his walking stick somewhere it really doesn't belong." Gold shook his head with a slight smile; he had no intention of that happening. Presently, the phone on his own desk gave a shrill ring, demanding his attention.

"Hello?"

"Mr Gold, Mr Tillman is here to see you." Kathryn's voice was a clipped and efficient as usual.

"All right, Miss Fox, send him up, thank you. I'll be out in a moment."

The receptionist put the phone down and Gold did likewise, organising the papers on his desk back into their file. Kathryn was a lovely girl and extremely competent, but she did so constantly want to prove herself worthy of her position, in case anyone thought she was there simply by dint of being the senior partner's daughter.

He stood and made his way out of his room to find his client, passing through the main office to get to the waiting area on the landing. The building which housed Guildhall Law was large enough to keep all its occupants comfortably, but the space was arranged vertically rather than horizontally, leading to a rather haphazard arrangement of desks and offices. Fox and Mills, the most senior lawyers in the firm, had their offices on the ground floor, with the secretary they shared tucked away in a corner of Fox's room. Gold and Glass, next in the hierarchy, were at opposite ends of the first floor, separated by the open space that hosted Ashley, another secretary and a trainee solicitor working under Sidney's supervision. The two recently qualified junior partners shared an office and small consulting room on the top floor, even though their secretary was in the room below with Ashley.

(Not that it mattered too much whose was whose. The secretaries knew everyone's cases better than the solicitors themselves did, and were quite able to interchange roles seamlessly at a moment's notice.)

Michael Tillman's was a comparatively simple case. The man had divorced two years ago and been refused joint custody of his two children on account of his erratic working hours. Now he was working regular shifts, and naturally, he wanted more access to his son and daughter. The negotiations were progressing well, and Gold's predecessor Fothergill had handled the original divorce so there hadn't even been an awful lot of background work to do. The meeting over, Gold saw Mr Tillman back out onto the landing and watched him leave the building. Putting his free hand into his jacket pocket, he found a scrap of paper that he was fairly certain hadn't been there before. It was his receipt from the café earlier; he remembered now. The waitress who'd been hiding behind the flapjacks had run out after him as he'd left, pressed it into his hand and run off before he could protest. Gold looked at the receipt and frowned. It was for two toasted sandwiches and a bottle of coke, and therefore definitely not his. Putting it down to a mistake on the part of the waitress, he was about to throw it away when something caught his eye and he turned the slip of paper over. On the back, in her hasty, looping hand, there was a message.

_Miss French works all day Tuesday, Friday and Sunday, and on Monday, Wednesday and alternate Saturday afternoons. (She's not in this Saturday.)_

Gold smiled, the small hope that had previously deserted him returning. Perhaps all was not yet lost, especially if Belle's colleagues were trying to play matchmaker. Although that particular notion didn't inspire him with an awful lot of confidence, it was good to know that he was in with a chance.

* * *

**To be continued  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** I do go into the intricacies of the English legal system in this chapter, only a little and all should be explained within the dialogue and narrative, but if anyone wants any more info or clarification, just drop me a PM. I studied law at sixth form and should be able to answer most general queries. Oh, and as always: thanks to the guest reviewers!

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Four**

"You did _what_?" Belle exclaimed. It was the middle of the Friday lunch rush and she was standing by the coffee machine, one hand on her hip, the other holding a jug of steamed milk, and her expression was, she hoped, extremely ferocious.

"I gave him your shifts," Ruby said airily before turning her attention back to the customers. "Hello, what can I get you today?"

As much as she wanted to upturn the milk over Ruby's head, Belle settled instead for stamping her foot in indignation.

"You should be thanking her!" Emma called from behind the kitchen partition. "Nothing would ever have got done if we'd left you to your own devices!"

"Belle! Two cappuccinos and a green tea! Exactly," Ruby continued, seamlessly picking up the conversation again. "You were never going to make the first move, so I made it for you. Hello, what can I get for you today?"

"Ruby!" Belle exclaimed, but there was nothing else that she could say. Hopefully Ruby's actions would have done more good than harm.

"What's she done now?"

Belle looked up to see Granny coming through in the door.

"I've been sorting Belle's love life out for her," Ruby replied. "What are you doing here, stranger? You shouldn't be in till tomorrow."

Granny only came into the café at the weekends, working the Saturday and Sunday mornings and lunch rush. It was unusual to see her during the week unless there was a problem.

"Well, I thought I'd let you girls know the bad news hot off the press," she said, holding up a sheet of paper. Belle could just make out the word 'vacancy' at the top of the page. "It's happened I'm afraid. Astrid's handed in her notice."

"Oh." Belle, Ruby and Emma were suddenly subdued. They'd known that this day would come eventually, ever since Astrid had first started at the café. Her husband had to travel a lot for his job and they moved frequently. It was inevitable that Astrid and Leroy would only be in the area for a couple of years or so, but it was still a blow. Ruby, Emma and Astrid had been at Granny's since its beginning; Belle had joined them eight months later when Granny had decided that it was time for her to take more of a backseat. Even though Astrid only worked a couple of days a week and could be a liability when handed a sharp knife or precarious stack of plates, the four waitresses had become like a family. One of their number was suddenly leaving, and they'd have to get used to working with someone new in her stead.

"Where's she going?"

"Somewhere in Kent," Granny replied. "She said she'd be in later and give you all the details. The thing is, we've only got a fortnight before she leaves, so I've had to get cracking, as mercenary as it sounds." She brought the advert sheet over. "I thought you'd want to see it. I won't put it up yet, it's unfair to Astrid to be advertising her job less than an hour after she's given it up." Granny put the paper on top of the cake display and Belle and Ruby looked at it as Emma continued to serve.

_Vacancy_, it read. _One experienced part-time serving/kitchen staff member required for immediate start. Seven shifts, roughly twenty hours, flexible. Apply with CV within._

"I wasn't going to mess with Emma's shifts because I know she's got to work around her little boy, but I hoped you two wouldn't mind."

"Of course not," said Ruby and Belle, almost in unison. Granny stayed to chat, but only for a moment as the queue was beginning to build up. Once she was gone, all three waitresses looked at each other.

"Well, that's a kick in the teeth," Ruby said, summing up everyone's mood remarkably succinctly. The rest of the day passed in a whirl of despondency – Astrid came in at closing time with tears in her eyes, and Ruby and Belle couldn't give her enough hugs.

"It's always the same," she sniffed. "I should be used to it by now but I'm really not. Every time we move I make a bunch of new friends and then I have to leave them behind."

They were just saying goodbye for the evening (Astrid worked the Saturday lunch rush so Ruby would see her again the next day, and at any rate, she was intending to work her notice until her replacement was found) when there was a little knock on the door. Belle looked round. It was Ashley, beaming, holding a huge bouquet of flowers, her partner Sean standing behind her looking a little bewildered. Ruby rushed to the door to let their friend in.

"They remembered!" she squealed. "Well, they probably forgot, but Kathryn must have whipped them into shape."

"Oh, Ashley, they're lovely." Belle sniffed the flowers.

"I've got these flowers, and a card, and a couple of other bits, and Fox gave Sean a cigar for after the birth."

She put the flowers on the nearest table and held out the bag of presents towards Belle, Ruby and Astrid. Belle plucked out the card and studied the signatures inside, trying to identify them. Ashley tapped a squiggle near the bottom of the page.

"That's the one you're looking for in particular," she said, and gave her a little grin before going back over to Ruby and Astrid. Belle looked at the signature, trying to make out a first name, but it was near illegible. The message above wasn't much better.

_All the best to you, Sean and the little one. Enjoy the break from us lot._

She read the other messages and handed the card back to Ashley, who was being told Astrid's rather more sombre news.

"We're having a party," Ruby announced suddenly.

"Since when?" spluttered Belle.

"Since now," said Ruby. "I'll run it by Granny. We'll invite everyone round to our living room and give Astrid and Leroy a proper send-off."

"Thanks, Ruby, but…" Astrid began, but Ruby was not the sort of person to be swayed once her mind was made up about something. Belle rolled her eyes at Ashley, who was getting ready to go again.

"Enjoy your maternity leave," she said. "And make sure you bring him or her in to see us."

"Well, I'll probably see you at this party if it goes ahead." She raised an eyebrow. "Ruby's quite set on it, I think. Bye all." There was no response. "Oi! Party planner extraordinaire! We're off!"

Ruby and Astrid said their goodbyes to Ashley and Sean, and the three waitresses locked up the café, stepping out of the precinct and walking along the bus stop round the corner. Leroy was waiting to take Astrid home.

"Where've you _been_?" he asked. "I thought you were only popping in to give them your bad news."

"We got sidetracked," said Ruby cheerfully. "But she's here now."

"Honestly, I'm amazed you lot get any work done, you're that busy chatting." Leroy shook his head in despair.

"I'm offended," said Ruby with mock indignation. "Well, we'd better get going. See you at the party, Leroy!"

"What party?" asked Leroy as he Astrid continued down the street towards the car park.

"Ruby's decided to throw us a 'sorry you're leaving' party," Belle heard Astrid explain.

"Do I have to go?"

"Of course, you old misanthrope. It's in our honour! But I wouldn't worry too much if I were you. It may not come to anything."

Ruby rolled her eyes.

"I have no idea why everyone has so little faith in my planning ability," she said.

"Possibly because the most frequent words to come out of your mouth are "oh, crumbs, I'm late'," Belle pointed out, hailing her bus.

"But if I'm hosting in my living room, I can't be late!"

"Trust me, Ruby, if anyone can find a way, you can."

Ruby was still protesting as Belle boarded the bus.

X

The café didn't open until nine o'clock on Sunday mornings but Belle's bus timetable meant that she could only arrive half an hour early or three hours late. Granny was there when she got in, bustling about in the kitchen and checking stock. They'd already had one person interested in the job and the advert had only been up since start of business the previous day.

("August Wayne Booth," Granny said, passing his CV to Belle. "Looks like he jobs in cafés when he's got writer's block. At least he's got all his food hygiene certificates.")

Ruby came in at lunch time.

"All right, help is on the way," she said, coming behind the counter. "You go home and rest your bunions."

"Cheeky monkey," Granny muttered. To Belle, she added: "She was round at the psychiatrist's house yesterday morning on the pretence of asking after his dog."

"I was in there _ten minutes_!" Ruby exclaimed. "I happened to be passing! That I got a date out of it is neither here nor there!"

Belle raised an eyebrow and Granny looked equally unconvinced.

"You're going to scare him away if you aren't careful," the older woman warned. "You get these ideas in your head and you rush into them, my girl."

Ruby looked pensive, and Belle was fairly sure that she had never seen her friend seem so worried.

"Do you really think so?" she asked Belle, who shrugged.

"I think that Archie is rather different to the men you usually date," Belle said, trying to put it tactfully. "Just… bear that in mind."

"I know." Ruby sighed. "But he's lovely, and intelligent, and he makes me laugh. Not like the army of Steves I've dated in recent months. And he loves dogs!"

"Ruby, I think it's now very obvious that you want more than just one date from this young man." Granny patted her granddaughter's arm. "And I am certain that young love, or at least young infatuation, will find a way. Now all we need to do is get Belle on the way with hers."

"Ruby, how much have you told her?" Belle groaned. "Soon the entire precinct will know!"

"I tell my grandmother everything," said Ruby proudly.

"Oh yes," Granny added, an unmistakable twinkle in her eye. "I know all about your adventures on Mr Gold's desk. You bring him his coffee and he shows you his briefs…"

"That's barristers, Granny," Ruby corrected. "Barristers' instructions are called briefs. Mr Gold is a solicitor, he doesn't have them." She grinned. "He has boxers."

Belle was seriously considering smacking her head against the cake display case but was prevented from such a drastic course of action by the arrival of some customers.

"I've never understood the difference," Granny muttered once the rush had died down.

"What, between briefs and boxers? Honestly, Granny." Ruby tutted. "Mind you, Grandpa used to wear Y-fronts so I can't say I'm wholly surprised."

"No, you rascal, between barristers and solicitors!"

"Barristers spend all day standing in criminal courtrooms talking the hind legs off a donkey whilst wearing silly wigs. Solicitors sit in offices doing all the actual work." Belle whipped round to see Mr Gold standing at the counter, a wry smile spreading over his features. "Well, it's slightly more complicated than that. Sometimes we have to go into court too, but at least we don't have to look ridiculous whilst we're at it." He turned to Belle. "Good afternoon, Miss French."

Belle was momentarily lost for words, the shock of seeing him in the café rendering her mute. Her mind frantically scrabbling for something, _anything_ to say, since 'Good afternoon, Mr Gold, what can I get for you today?' appeared to be completely beyond her, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head.

"You're wearing a suit."

Mr Gold looked down at his attire and back at Belle.

"Yes, I am aware of that."

"But it's Sunday!"

"Yes, I am aware of that, too." Something in his expression made Belle very sure that he was laughing at her on the inside.

"I think what Belle is trying, and failing, to say, is that it is unusual for men to wear suits on Sundays," Ruby said. "In fact, your appearance has found her at such a loss for words that we may have to ask you to…"

"Ruby Lucas, there is a stack of washing up to be done in the kitchen," said Granny sternly, steering Ruby round the partition. "Let's get on with that and stop scaring away custom."

Belle rested her head in her hands, elbows planted firmly on the counter. It was official. Ruby had just ruined everything (not that Belle herself had been making any real progress), and she was going to murder her friend, Mr Gold as a defence lawyer or not.

"Is she always like that?" Mr Gold asked. Belle risked a glance up at him. He looked more amused than anything else, so perhaps all was not lost.

"Yes. I'm sorry. Can we please start this conversation again?"

The solicitor laughed.

"Of course. Good afternoon, Miss French."

"Good afternoon, Mr Gold. What can I get for you today?"

"I'll have an Earl Grey and some carrot cake, please."

Belle rang it up and counted his change. So far, so good.

"Take a seat and I'll bring your tray over," she said, getting the carrot cake out of the display unit and cutting a piece, allowing herself a small moment of pride when the wedge didn't fall over on the plate. She was just getting the tea when she heard Ruby's voice whisper from behind the partition.

"Earl Grey… carrot cake… Miss French on a plate with whipped cream on the side…"

The cup Belle was holding slipped in her grasp and upturned.

"Ruby!" hissed Granny. "There's helping things along and there's what you're doing. Give the girl a chance to impress her man!"

"What am I doing?" Ruby whispered back. "He likes her, she likes him, I don't see that making this very obvious fact even clearer to them can do any harm!"

Belle picked up the cup, arranged the tray and carried it past Granny and Ruby with her head held high.

"I'm taking my break now," she said as calmly as she could. She could do this. She hadn't asked anyone out for over a year but, like riding a bicycle, it wasn't a skill that one simply forgot with time. As she slid the tray onto the table, however, and Mr Gold looked up at her, she wasn't quite so convinced.

"Thank you, Miss French."

"You're welcome." Just say it, her mind told her crossly. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." Mr Gold gestured to the chair opposite him. "I'd be honoured."

Belle sat down and watched him fiddle with his cake fork, turning it over between his fingers but never actually letting it get anywhere near the cake. It was in that moment that she realised he was just as nervous as she was, and that knowledge helped her relax, if only slightly.

"So, Miss French," he began. "You don't work on Thursdays."

"There's no need to stand on ceremony," Belle said. "You can call me Belle. And no, I don't work on Thursdays."

"I was wondering, then, if…" He dropped the fork on the table and his next words seemed to be spoken all in one breath. "If you'd like to have dinner with me. Next Thursday. Provided you aren't doing anything else, of course…"

He tailed off as Belle picked up the fork and handed it back to him. She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks.

"I'd like that very much, Mr Gold," she replied.

The relief was instant, almost as if a door between them had been unlocked. The attraction had been acknowledged and found to be mutual, and with that, the nerves began to die away. The first step, that most daunting part, had been made.

Mr Gold smiled.

"There's no need to stand on ceremony. You can drop the mister."

"Gold." Belle raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have a first name?"

He shook his head, smirking slightly.

"You do," Belle said. "It begins with R. It says so on your panel."

"Seven o'clock?" he asked, ignoring her query.

"Sounds perfect. If you don't tell me, I'll start guessing. Robert? Richard? Ronald? Rory? Raymond?"

"Shall we meet in the cathedral green?"

"Yes. Rawdon? Rudolf?"

Gold raised an eyebrow as she continued with every name beginning with R she could think of, including some female ones when inspiration ran dry.

"Why don't you just skip straight to Rumpelstiltskin and be done with it?" he asked. Belle looked at him.

"Seriously?" His expression was completely deadpan. "Seriously?"

"No, of course not seriously, but you can call me it if you like."

Belle folded her arms. Two minutes ago, they were practically too scared to talk to each other, like a couple of teenagers. Now they were teasing each other… also like a couple of teenagers.

"What have you got against your first name?"

"I don't _like_ my first name, and I don't see why I should put up with everyone calling me by it. Everyone I know has always just called me Gold. With or without the mister."

"I'll still call you Gold, but I can't exactly tell my father that I'm going out with a man who won't tell me his name."

Gold sighed and pulled a business card out of his pocket, sliding it across the table towards her.

"It's on there."

Belle studied the card and looked up in indignation.

"I guessed that!"

"I know you did."

Gold poured some tea into the cup and had it halfway to his mouth before Belle noticed that the rim was chipped, no doubt from where she had dropped it earlier, and her hand shot out to stop him.

"It's chipped," she said in response to his raised eyebrow. He shrugged.

"You can hardly see it."

"Yes, but if you cut yourself on it and half your face falls off due to infection, you can sue the café. And you're a lawyer, you know about suing people."

"I have done it several times on other people's behalf," Gold agreed.

"I get you a new one." Belle rose to leave but his voice arrested her.

"Stay put, Miss French. I'll buy it."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'll buy it." Belle thought she had misheard, but no, Gold was taking out his wallet. "How much for a cup? You must buy them in bulk and get wholesale discount, add that to the damage…" He looked up at her, and Belle was certain that her mouth was hanging open. "Well, you'll have to throw it out anyway so I might as well liberate it. I can't sue you if it's mine." He held out a five pound note.

"I'm the one who broke it," Belle protested, "Ruby was distracting me…" Gold's expression was unwavering and she accepted the paper, making a mental note to put it in the till. "More money than sense," she muttered.

Gold shrugged.

"I can't think of anything useful to spend it on right now."

"Belle!" Ruby was waving from the counter, where a queue was starting to form. "Break's over, I need help here!"

Reluctantly, Belle got up to go and assist her friend.

"Thursday, at seven, cathedral green. Where are we going to eat?" she asked.

"I haven't decided yet."

"BELLE!"

"All right, I'm coming!" She paused. "Till Thursday, Mr Gold."

"Till Thursday, Miss French."

Belle rushed back behind the counter, feeling as if she was walking on air.

* * *

**To be continued**


	5. Chapter 5

**IMPORTANT NOTE: **Series 2 begins in America tomorrow; I'm still working on a way for me to see it online but until I do so, can I please ask that people do not put any kind of spoilers in reviews or PMs, thank you! (Thank you to the people who've been suggesting websites but as yet none are working for me in the UK.)

Another quick reminder – **Carrot Cake** is set in the UK where we use British Sterling!

* * *

**Note:** There are a couple of moments in the chapter when the conversation takes a slightly risqué turn, but nothing that I would classify above a 12A/PG13 at the cinema. And thank you to the guest reviewers!

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Five**

It really shouldn't be so difficult, Belle thought, staring into the depths of her wardrobe, but it was. How out of practice at dating could you be?

It was Thursday, and in three hours she'd been standing in the cathedral green, waiting for Gold and wondering where she was going to be wined and dined. She had absolutely no idea what to wear. It was a trivial matter really; she'd never had any trouble picking date outfits before, but then again, she'd never had as much time to stew over things in anticipation before. She'd tried to get round this problem by keeping so busy that she simply didn't have time to think. Emma had commented on it on Tuesday lunchtime.

"Is it me," she'd said to Ruby, "or is our little Belle not looking over at Guildhall quite as much?"

When Ruby had told her the reason, Emma had hugged Belle so hard that she'd nearly broken in two.

"You'd better see if reality measures up to fantasy," Emma had said wickedly, at which Belle had gone bright red and resumed her previous occupation of cleaning the coffee machine, muttering about it only being the first date and they might never get that far.

But now, there were no coffee machines to clean and she couldn't avoid thinking about making a good impression. All the other times she'd spoken to Gold, she'd been wearing her work uniform. Now she had the chance to show him the real Belle. Unfortunately, the real Belle couldn't decide who she was. It was no use. There was only one thing for it. She was going to have to call in expert help. She was going to have to phone Ruby.

Her friend picked up after one-and-a-half rings.

"Ruby, it's Belle, I'm in a bit of a tizz because I don't know what to wear. I need your help."

Ruby gave a sigh of happiness down the phone.

"I thought you'd never ask. Give me two minutes to get a taxi and I'm there."

"Aren't you working?" Belle asked.

"No, I cajoled Granny into taking this shift so that I could be on hand for your fashion crisis. I had a feeling there might be one."

Belle groaned, listening to Ruby fumbling with her keys and locking the house she shared with Granny.

"Am I really that predictable?"

"No, Belle, you're really that nervous, and it's perfectly understandable." There was no teasing tone in Ruby's voice as there had been so often of late when Gold was somehow related to the topic of discussion. She sounded as if she genuinely wanted to give her friend some sound advice. "Taxi!"

"It is?" Belle asked.

"Of course. You haven't been in the dating game for nearly eighteen months; you're out of sync. And this isn't some random bloke you met at the Black Horse one evening; this is a man totally unlike any you've dated before whom you've been admiring from afar for months now, so this first date is more important than any other first date."

"Where are you going, love?" Belle heard the taxi driver ask.

"Fifty-six, St Anne's. I know how you're feeling, Belle, because I felt it myself on Monday with Archie. Honestly. This one's suddenly so much more vital than the others. You need it to go well, it's not just a bit of fun. Anyway, you just sit tight and I'll be there in about ten minutes. Bye."

"Bye."

Belle tossed the cordless phone onto the bed and sank down beside it, gazing despondently over at her wardrobe. At least Ruby was going to help. Having gone out with Archie on Monday night – a date she'd actually been on time for, for once – and secured a second date for Saturday, her friend had been floating along on Cloud Nine, the spring never out of her step and the smile never off her face. Belle was privately quite glad that Dr Hopper hadn't been into the café during the week in case Ruby dragged him off into the fridge.

Presently she heard a car pull up and idle outside. Belle lived on the ground floor of a terraced house, her bedroom facing out onto the road. She peered round the net curtains and saw Ruby leaning into the driver's window of a taxi, and she went to let her in.

Her friend was carrying a bottle of wine.

"Fantastic," Belle said. "Dutch Courage."

"Oh no," Ruby said. "The wine's for me. You're being wined and dined later, we don't want you sozzled before you get there as that really wouldn't make a good impression. Now, let's get to work. To your wardrobe, Miss French!"

Ruby didn't need directions to find Belle's bedroom, and she needed them even less to find the wardrobe. She abandoned the bottle of wine on the dressing table and positively dived into the closet, rifling through the hangers at an alarming rate. Belle resumed her previous position on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest and wondering if she had made the right decision in letting Ruby come over. Perhaps she could sneak off with the Chardonnay whilst her friend was distracted.

"Oh good grief, Belle, why haven't I seen this before?" Ruby's voice was lowered in awe as she carefully pulled a hanger out of the wardrobe, and Belle saw that it hosted her one and only formal gown; long, full-skirted, off-shoulder in bright golden silk. She raised an eyebrow.

"Because it's not exactly practical for working or a night at the Black Horse." Belle wondered what the reaction would be if she walked into their local pub wearing the gown. She was half-tempted to try it.

"I know," Ruby said wistfully. "It's a shame it's not practical for a dinner date either. But…" Her eyes glittered with the spark of an idea. "If Gold takes you to the Christmas charity ball at the castle, you have to wear it. There's never been a more appropriate colour."

Belle rolled her eyes, hopped off the bed and snatched the hanger from Ruby, stowing the dress safely back in her wardrobe.

"Spoilsport," her friend sniffed. "I was having lovely visions of you and Gold waltzing off round the room à la Disney. Tale as old as time, and all that."

"Yes, well, romantic as the notion is, dancing's not going to be very high on the agenda," Belle pointed out. "He's got enough trouble walking."

"You've ruined the dream enough already, there's no need to crush it completely."

"And the ball isn't for another month-and-a-half. Tickets haven't even gone on sale yet. A lot can happen in six weeks."

Ruby grinned.

"Exactly. Oh well, this isn't getting you dressed. And we're going about this all wrong. We need to start from the inside out. How can we possibly work out what you're going to wear on top if we don't know what you're going to wear underneath?" Ruby promptly pulled open Belle's underwear drawer. "Why do you keep your passport in with your knickers?"

"It's as good a place as any. Do we have to look at my underwear? It's only the first date; I wasn't exactly planning on having him see it."

"Oh, I know you're not that kind of girl. It'll be a while before you're sweeping his in-tray off his desk and alarming his secretary."

"Ruby!"

"Ok, I'll be serious. You'll never feel confident and lovely if you aren't wearing the right underwear. So get your lucky knickers out and we'll work around them."

Belle obliged, and Ruby skipped back over to the wardrobe.

"Where's he taking you?" she asked, sounding remarkably giddy. Belle was beginning to believe that she'd started on the wine in the cab on the way over.

"I've no idea. We're meeting in the green so presumably somewhere within walking distance."

"Belle, there are at least six eating establishments within walking distance of the cathedral green. You could be going anywhere from the Royal Clarence Hotel to the Chinese takeaway." Ruby tutted. "Honestly, men never think about these conundrums when planning. This is why I usually take matters into my own hands when it comes to organising dates."

"Even when you're late for them."

"That's neither here nor there."

Belle shook her head in despair.

"Where's that blue dress you wore to Emma's birthday party? That would be good. Aha!" She pulled out the hanger and gave the dress a thorough appraisal. "Perfect! Might be a bit cold for October though. Ugh, you cannot iron." Ruby fished out a white cardigan and draped it round the dress. "I think that's suitable for just about anywhere he could take you, although it might be a bit overdressed for the Chinese. And if he takes you there to try and impress you on a first date, then I'd advise against giving him a second one. I know how much you like him but believe me, relationships started whilst waiting for a takeaway never go well."

"If you say so," Belle said. She didn't really care where they went; she was far more interested in the company.

"I do say so. Now, where are your shoes? You can't go in your fluffy slipp-argh!"

Ruby, precariously balanced as she leaned into the bottom of the wardrobe, had fallen into Belle's neatly stacked shoeboxes.

"Erm, help?" she cried mournfully, waving one hand. Belle pulled her out of the heap and she emerged from the chaos clutching a bright blue kitten-heel shoe.

"This is just the thing," Ruby said happily, not at all phased by her ordeal. "Now all we need to do is find the other one."

It was somewhat easier said than done, but eventually they managed to cram all Belle's shoes back into their respective boxes, re-stack them and find the missing footwear.

"Right, you hop in the shower and I'll get this ironed, because honestly," Ruby said, indicating a long crease down the front of the dress that really shouldn't have been there, "you cannot iron for toffee."

"Yes, well, I have other talents," said Belle, moving through the flat to the bathroom.

"Yes, like dreaming up erotica to rival the best of them," Ruby called after her. Belle rolled her eyes as she heard her friend clattering about in the cupboard under the stairs. At least she now had something to wear. Presuming, of course, that she still had something to wear after Ruby's efforts with the iron.

When she returned to her bedroom. Belle really shouldn't have doubted her. The dress and cardigan were hanging on her wardrobe door looking an awful lot better than when she'd last seen them. Ruby had cracked open her wine and was browsing Belle's extensive bookshelves.

"Well, at least I know where you get your inspiration from," she said as Belle began drying her hair. "_Delta of Venus_, _Jane Eyre Laid Bare_…"

"Oh, shut up," said Belle. "Let me have my fantasies. From my previous experience, they're all too good to be true anyway."

"You can't have had much good experience then," said Ruby.

"Hmm." Belle concentrated on her hair. The grand total of different men that she had slept with in her life so far was three, and she wasn't quite willing to share that with Ruby.

"Upside to an older man," Ruby continued, raising an eyebrow at her in the mirror before resuming her flick-through of Delta of Venus. "He's been around long enough to know he's not God's gift to women and therefore actually take care of you in that respect."

"Can we please change the subject?" Belle asked plainly. "How many times do I need to remind you that this is the _first date_? Has Granny had any more interest in Astrid's job? I took another CV in yesterday."

"That makes five so far," Ruby said, "but she keeps coming back to the first guy, August. The others are all students up at the university, and you know she's not keen on hiring the 'bright young things' as she calls them. She says they're too unreliable." Ruby laughed. "The only thing that's holding her back is the fact he's a man."

"Worried he'll corrupt her girls?" Belle asked.

"No, worried that her girls will eat him alive. I did point out that you and I were both taken, but she didn't seem convinced."

"I don't think she's worried that we'll jump on him; she's probably more worried that he'll be overwhelmed and outnumbered. You have to admit that we can be pretty lethal when the three of us get together. How old is he, anyway?"

"Thirty-five, I think Granny said."

"He shouldn't have too much of a problem then." Belle searched in her drawers for hairpins. "He should be able to hold his own." She grinned. "Like you said. Older men."

Ruby laughed.

"Now you're getting into the swing of it. I've been wondering though…" She came over and perched on Belle's dressing table with her wine. "About Emma…"

Belle raised an eyebrow.

"What about Emma?"

"Well, you and I have landed on our feet with men recently. Ok, _I_ have landed on my feet with men recently," she amended on receiving Belle's pointed look. "Yes, I get it, first date, he might turn out to be incredibly, mind-numbingly boring or take you for a takeaway. But that aside, we still haven't done anything about Emma."

"Are you seriously suggesting that Granny hires August just so that you can set him up with Emma?"

"Oh, Belle, you can read me like one of your books. What do you think?"

"I think you're nuts. I think that Emma's perfectly happy as she is, thank you very much. I mean, she's got Henry to think of too, his opinion. She can't just bring a new man into his life without due consideration. Besides, this August might have a significant other himself. Called April. Or May. Or January."

Both women dissolved into giggles.

"Ah well. You can't be an obscure writer that no-one's ever heard of unless you've got a silly name," said Ruby.

Belle furrowed her brow.

"I think I have heard of him, actually," she said. "I think I've read one of his. Library, local authors' section."

Ruby was immediately interested.

"What was it like?"

"It was a while ago, now. Something fantasy-ish. I was going through a phase and all the plots tended to blend together. Possibly an alternate Snow White story."

"Alternate Snow White story, hmm. Well, considering your current choice of reading material, I should imagine it was something along the lines of 'pure as the driven snow on the outside, wanton seductress on the inside'. She did live with seven men, after all."

Belle rolled her eyes and checked the time. As lovely and nerve-calming as it was to be having a girly chat with Ruby somewhere that wasn't work or the pub, she was going to have to get a move on. Ruby noticed her increased haste.

"I'll leave you to get ready in peace. Show me how you look before you rush out of the door!"

She left the room and Belle heard her in the living room, going through the books in the shelves there.

"Do you do nothing but read?" she exclaimed. Belle didn't bother to reply because Ruby knew the answer full-well already. She concentrated on not getting mascara on her nose and quickly got dressed.

"Give us a twirl," Ruby said, coming out of the kitchen with her bottle of wine recorked and her jacket on, ready to leave. Belle dutifully twirled before putting her own coat on, just as her phone gave a single ring to let her know that the taxi was waiting. Normally she'd take the bus into the town centre, it was only a ten minute ride, but she was terrified of doing a Ruby and so, feeling flush and hoping it would be worth it in the end, she'd called a cab. Ruby stepped out of the house and watched her lock up.

"Remember, you have to tell me everything. Everything!" she called as Belle scrambled into the waiting car. "And if he takes you to the Blue Dragon and you end up eating egg-fried rice on a park bench, ditch him _immediately_."

As the taxi pulled away, the nervousness that Ruby's presence had managed to dispel began to creep back into her veins. She was going out for dinner with Mr Gold. She had daydreamed about this moment for over three months and now that it had arrived, she was terrified. The easy chatter they'd shared in the café discussing chipped cups and first name terms on Sunday seemed very far away. She'd been on home turf then, feeling safe in the café's cosy and familiar surroundings. She'd been Belle the waitress, exchanging banter with her customers. Now she was venturing into the great unknown and she was just Belle, no persona to hide behind. She crossed her fingers on top of her handbag and sent up a quick wish to the Pole Star.

_Please let this go well._

* * *

**To be continued_  
_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: ** I'm really sorry about the cliffhanger… Well, not _really_ sorry… But here is the date proper, at last! In which we learn some more about Mr Gold, and there is fun with desserts. As usual: Thanks to the guest reviewers and **please no spoilers in reviews or PM's yet!**

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Six**

It was only when he arrived in the cathedral green that Gold wondered if meeting there hadn't been quite such a good idea. If he was being brutally honest, it was because he was paranoid. Meeting here gave her a chance to back out if she wanted; simply not to turn up if she got cold feet at the last minute. If he'd offered to pick her up, it would have meant she had no escape route, and she'd have had to tell him where she lived before she'd had a real chance to assess whether he was likely to be a potential stalker, psychopath or pervert. Not that Gold really believed that Belle thought him any of those things, but he was still aware that this courtship – as old-fashioned as the word sounded it was the only one he thought appropriate – had to be handled extremely carefully.

On the face of it, it seemed like a reasonable place to meet – a nice, big, open space and the floodlit cathedral looking romantic in the background in the waning evening light. Unfortunately, there were at least four different paths into the green and Gold had no idea from which direction Belle would be coming. He perched on the wall outside the Royal Clarence, hoping he could keep an eye on the majority of the possible entrances from the fairly central position.

Gold almost didn't recognise Belle when he saw her step out of her taxi; he'd only ever seen her wearing her brown uniform, with or without a green fleece jacket over it, and her rich brown curls had always been scraped back in a knot to keep them out of the food. Now they bounced around her face as she saw him and half-walked, half-ran across, smiling shyly.

"Mr Gold, I hope I haven't kept you waiting."

"Not at all, Miss French. Shall we?"

Her eyes flickered across to the hotel.

"We aren't going in there, are we?" she asked nervously.

"I'm afraid not." He nodded towards the little Italian tucked away on one corner, squashed between a jeweller's and the cathedral souvenir shop. "We're going in there."

"Thank God. They use cutlery I've never heard of in that place."

Gold had to laugh.

"I can't say I've ever had the experience."

"Neither have I, but Ruby used to waitress there before Granny started the café. Apparently it took her half an hour to set a table for two and the maitre d' used to come round with a ruler to make sure that all the knives and forks were the correct distance apart."

"Ruby being your slightly mad colleague with the bright red highlights and the habit of hiding behind the cakes?"

"Erm, yes." Belle looked slightly sheepish. "She means well, but…"

"It's all right. I've been dealing in family law long enough to be used to being stared at from behind things. Generally filing cabinets. But I must admit, the culprits are usually seven-year-olds, not twenty-seven."

They were ushered to a cosy table in one corner, under the stairs.

"Have they put us out of the way because they think we'll cause trouble?" Belle whispered.

"Perhaps. Maybe they think we're going to leave without paying so they've put us as far away from the door as possible."

Belle smiled, but it did not quite reach her eyes, which were still clouded with nervousness. It was in that moment that Gold made up his mind – if he did nothing else, he would elicit a genuine smile from her, one that lit up her face and made her blue eyes shine. That was the smile that he had seen on that first day, the smile that had kept him looking out for her. He watched Belle reading the menu and the wine list.

"Well, I know what I'd like to eat, but I'm rubbish with wine. I can differentiate between white, red, pink and bubbly but that's about the limit of my knowledge." She passed him the list and Gold scanned down it. "You'll have to pick."

"Well, it depends on what you're eating," he said, "Zinfandel goes well with just about anything, try that."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Are you not partaking?" she asked. Gold shook his head.

"I'm driving," he said by way of explanation.

"Oh. Fair enough." Belle bit her lip. "Sorry, I feel bad now, drinking when you're not. I'll just have orange juice."

"It doesn't matter, honestly." He raised his eyebrows. "Or are you worried you'll get sloshed on one glass and reveal all your deepest, darkest secrets?"

Belle blushed.

"I'll have you know that I can handle my wine very well, thank you. Spirits slightly less so. Oh dear…" She covered her face with her hands. "First date and I'm discussing getting drunk."

"Well, I can say with hand on heart that I have no intention of plying you with Jack Daniels," Gold said. "And I'd be joining you in the Zinfandel if I'd had enough foresight not to drive here."

Belle protested when he ordered her a glass but gave in with good grace when the drinks arrived and she toasted her wine against his lime and soda.

"Happy Thursday," she said.

"Most definitely."

Belle sipped her wine and paused.

"Surely one glass wouldn't take you over the limit?"

Gold felt his grip on his tumbler tighten imperceptibly.

"I'd rather not take the risk," he said eventually. "You can guarantee that the day you're not careful is the day something'll happen. My licence has been clean since I got it and that's a track record I'd like to keep." It was at least true, if not the full story.

"You're better than my dad," Belle said with a snort. "He knows several different ways of being just under the limit."

"Well, he's a lucky man," Gold murmured. He could tell her the reason why he never touched alcohol when he was behind the wheel. She would understand, he could tell that. He could see it in her eyes, kind and non-judgmental, unlike Regina who had sneered at his abstinence. But it was not a story for the first date. He steered the conversation onto more neutral ground, asking her how her day had gone, but he couldn't stop his mind from wandering.

Up until ten years ago, Gold had taken much the same view as Belle's father evidently did. The limit was there for a reason and it was to be respected, but as long as that limit wasn't zero, one glass couldn't hurt. Under the limit, but under the influence as well. Until Bae…

Gold had been sober. Who drank at four in the afternoon for Christ's sake? He'd been taking Bae home from football; going over the crest of a hill they'd met a car on the wrong side, overtaking blindly on what was usually a very quiet road. He had slammed the brakes on and the other driver had swerved, clipping the passenger side of Gold's car and sending it spinning out of control across the road and head on into a tree.

Gold's right leg was broken in three places, including his kneecap, and he'd been lame ever since.

His son was killed outright.

The other driver escaped with minor injuries and pleaded guilty to causing death by dangerous driving. He had been just under the limit, and Gold had known, from that day on, that one glass could really, really hurt...

He forced himself away from the dark thoughts and concentrated on Belle, on the way she moved her hands more and more as she got into her subject. It was clear to him that she adored books, reading, libraries, anything to do with the written word.

"My biggest dream is…" She cut off and looked down at her fork. "No, that's silly."

"I'm intrigued now, my dear," he said.

"Ok. But you have to promise not to laugh, because it is silly."

"I promise."

"All right." Belle looked him in the eye. "My biggest dream is to visit Trinity College library in Dublin. I've seen pictures of it and it looks so beautiful. I mean, the central lending library here is perfectly functional, but it's not what you'd call pretty. I think that books deserve better than that. Majestic words need majestic surroundings." She paused as their food arrived and they began to eat in silence. "I told you it was silly."

"I don't think it's silly at all," said Gold.

"Really? Most people just despair of me when I tell them. 'Not more books!' they cry. 'Why not swimming with dolphins or going to Australia?' Well, I'm not all that into dolphins and I've come from Australia, so Trinity College library is good enough for me." She speared a mushroom on her fork and contemplated it before giving him a cheeky little grin. "Enough about me. What's you big aspiration?"

"I… I have no idea." He'd never really thought about it too deeply before. If anyone had ever asked him anything akin in the past before he'd moved here, they'd received a snarled reply along the lines of 'having my son back and walking unaided' for their trouble, but that wasn't an answer that he could give to Belle.

"Come on, there must be something. Places you want to see, mountains you want to climb. Well, probably not the mountains," she amended hastily on seeing his raised eyebrow. Gold smiled; she was relaxing now, far less nervous than when she had stepped out of the cab. He decided that he might as well be honest with her; she'd been honest with him.

"Well, up until now I would probably have said taking you out to dinner. But I've achieved that now, so I'll have to think of something else."

Belle opened her mouth to suggest something, blushed and closed it again, dropping her fork and narrowly avoiding sending mushrooms and parmesan splattering over the tablecloth. Whatever she'd been going to say, it was evidently too audacious to her mind, and she'd decided against it at the last minute. He didn't push the point and they lapsed back into silence.

"I feel like I've been doing all the talking," Belle said suddenly. "I've practically given you my life story and I know nothing about yours."

"Well, my life story's considerably longer than yours, I should imagine," Gold said. "We might be here a while."

Belle rolled her eyes.

"You can't be _that_ old," she said. "How old are you, anyway? Forty-five?"

"You're very kind, Belle, but aiming a bit too low." They might as well get it out in the open now instead of skirting around the issue. The age difference was an elephant in the room that Gold hadn't wanted to think about, but it was a fairly fundamental issue.

"Forty-six? Seven? Eight?"

Gold nodded slightly.

"I was only three years out!" Belle exclaimed."Hmm. How strange. There's the same difference between you and me as there was between my parents."

And it was clear that this didn't faze her in the slightest. Gold let out the breath that he didn't realise he'd been holding.

"May I ask the age gap?"

"That's a nicely subtle way of asking a lady her age without asking." Belle smiled. "Twenty years. I'm twenty-eight in January." She shrugged. "If Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michael Douglas can still be going strong with twenty-five years between them I don't see why there should be any stigma attached to a smaller gap. Well." Belle speared another mushroom happily. "Now that that's cleared up, you still haven't told me anything about you. What do you do when you're not suing people?"

"Believe it or not, I do actually try to avoid suing people. It saves an awful lot of time and money when things don't go to court." Gold paused. "To answer your question properly, I collect things. Things that other people probably think are junk, but I disagree."

"Like chipped tea-cups."

"Hmm. I like to think of that as a souvenir. Coming to think of it, most of what I own is some sort of souvenir. It's more interesting than keeping a diary; I don't have the patience or inclination for that, but it's nice to look at something and know the story behind it."

"Hmm…" Belle was studying him carefully as he spoke. "So what's the story behind your cufflinks? I've been thinking about them for a while now."

Gold furrowed his brow.

"Why?" He risked a glance down at his wrists. They were an old pair, almost as old as Belle herself, but they were good to fall back on in times of uncertainty.

"Because they don't match," Belle said. "Normally I wouldn't think anything of it but you don't seem like the sort of man who'd be scatterbrained enough to mismatch cufflinks by accident."

"They're not the same, but they are a pair." Gold pushed his jacket sleeves up a little so that she could see the links more clearly. "It's the sword and scales of Lady Justice. Lawyers' symbols, basically."

"Oh yes, the woman on top of the Old Bailey. Sorry, couldn't put two and two together there."

"It's all right. As for their story, it's quite simple. They were a present from my supervisor when I qualified."

"I see." Belle toyed with her fork although there was nothing left on her plate to pick up. "How long does it take?"

"What, to qualify?"

"Yes." Her smile was self-deprecating. "I've been working opposite solicitors for over a year and I know nothing about them other than their coffee preferences. Or tea, in your case. Earl Grey, no milk or sugar. I remember these things."

Gold laughed.

"Generally six years. Three-year degree, one-year training course, two years training on the job. Thinking of a career change?"

"Not really. I'm just intrigued. That's what comes of too many books. Makes you nosy."

"Makes you inquisitive," Gold corrected. "Not nosy."

The waiter came to take their plates and bring dessert menus.

"Oh crumbs," Belle murmured, her eyes widening. "This is always the hardest part."

"Do you like tiramisu?" Gold asked. She looked at him, the corner of her mouth twitching up in the promise of a smile.

"Do you?"

"Not particularly, no, but if you like tiramisu then I'd recommend it."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Do you come here a lot?"

"No," Gold admitted, "I've been here once. But I'm still recommending the tiramisu."

"How do you know I'll like it?" Belle teased.

"I don't. But I know you'll be impressed by it."

"That sounds rather ominous."

Ominous or not, she ordered it anyway. They'd lapsed into silence again, Belle worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. The unease had returned to her manner, and Gold was unsure of the reason for her insecurity.

"So… How did you find out about this place?" she asked lightly. "I keep forgetting it exists."

That was it, her tell. Gold was no cardsharp but he'd bet his last she was thinking of the previous occasion he'd visited the restaurant and who he'd brought. Time to set her mind at rest.

"At the end of my first week at Guildhall, Fox and my other colleagues decided it would be a good idea to have a bit of a 'getting to know everyone' session in different surroundings to the office. We came here. The evening was probably not the success that Mr Fox had hoped, since I managed to get into the first of many arguments with Ms Mills, and Mr Fox himself got so plastered that Kathryn had to come and take him home. But I _did_ discover the tiramisu."

Belle laughed, and at last, it seemed that her final inhibitions had been lowered. For the first time that evening, her smile lit up her eyes, and for a few moments afterwards, she would break off into spasmodic giggles at the thought of the upstanding and respectable Mr Fox absolutely legless. Gold didn't mind, he'd achieved what he'd set out to do and been graced with Belle's beautiful, genuine smile. He smiled himself at the memory. Fox had been distinctly sheepish the following Monday morning, no doubt having come to the hungover realisation that three members of their party of six had been stone cold sober all evening and could recall the events an awful lot more clearly than he could.

Dessert arrived, and Belle spent a full two minutes staring at her tiramisu with nothing short of stupefied amazement. Gold was on the verge of giving up being a gentleman and waiting for her to start before picking up his own spoon when she spoke.

"Ok, consider me duly impressed. Good lord, is that chocolate bubble wrap?"

Gold peered at the chunks of white chocolate sticking out of the top of the tiramisu, the dessert itself being presented inside a chocolate shell very much akin to a rosebud. It did indeed look as if it had been formed by pouring molten chocolate over bubble wrap.

"I think it might be."

"Oh no, it looks too pretty to eat!" She paused. "Will you think me really, really weird if I take a picture of my pudding?" A sly little grin crept over her mouth. "It would be a souvenir."

Gold spread his hands.

"Be my guest, if it means you'll eat it afterwards."

Belle fished out her phone and took a picture of the tiramisu before picking up her spoon and attacking it happily. The quiet that followed was not uncomfortable, and as soon as the plates were cleared, Belle began to speak again, a little more animated now. She asked him how he and Sidney were getting on with the temp who'd replaced Ashley – abysmally, he admitted, they needed their trusted secretary back as soon as possible. He asked her about the latest mishaps from the café. It was a shame that they'd only got into this easy conversation at the end of the meal, but Gold hoped that there would be plenty more opportunities in the future. Coffee drunk, there really was no way of prolonging the evening, and he settled up. It was probably better this way, they could quit whilst they were ahead and not risk overdoing it.

It was a clear night, and a cool wind had started up. Belle shivered when they stepped into the street, despite coat and cardigan. She was halfway through dialling for a taxi when Gold realised what she was doing.

"It's not the best of nights to wait for a cab," he said. "I'd be happy to give you a lift home if you'd like."

Belle nodded.

"That would be very kind of you, thank you."

"My pleasure."

The drive to her house was criminally short. As he switched the engine off, Gold felt Belle's cold fingers enclose around his on the gear stick. He looked round at her, making out her smile in the streetlight.

"Thank you, Mr Gold," she said softly. "I had a lovely evening. The tiramisu was wonderful, and the company was perfect."

"Thank you, Miss French. I am in complete agreement."

"Despite the fact you didn't taste the tiramisu."

"The company more than made up for it."

"We should definitely do this again." Belle's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Next Thursday?"

Gold's heart leapt to his mouth.

"Where did you have in mind?" he asked. Belle merely smiled.

"I think it's my turn to surprise you," she said. "But keep your lunch hour free."

She said nothing more, instead leaning in and kissing his cheek, rendering him momentarily mute.

"Thank you," he managed eventually, horribly aware of how completely idiotic he sounded. "May I return the favour?"

"By all means."

He pressed his lips to her cheek, breathing in her scent as he did. She smelled of rose and raspberry and Zinfandel; beautiful, in short.

"Good night, Belle," he said.

"Good night, Gold."

He watched her safely through her front door before driving away. It was a very good night indeed.

* * *

**To be continued**


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: **The usual: Thanks to the guest reviewers and no season 2 spoilers till further notice please.

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Seven**

It wasn't often that Belle reached the café before Emma of a morning, and it surprised her to find the shop locked and dark when she stepped into the precinct. It didn't bother her; Emma had evidently been held up somewhere and Belle would be perfectly fine on her own for a while. The café was never generally busy first thing in the morning, and it gave her time to indulge in memories of the previous evening. There had been the odd awkward moment, true, but by the end the conversation had flowed as easily as if they'd been talking to each other all their lives. And he had kissed her. As Ruby had said a long time ago, if lips met any part of the anatomy, it was a kiss. Nothing didn't count. She remembered the few long moments they'd spent in his car outside her flat. She'd have been quite happy to remain there even longer if it wasn't for the fact that he was double-parked. She'd secured the second date, and that was what was important, so no matter how she felt it had gone, she knew it couldn't have been a disaster. She'd had an idea, and she hoped she could pull it off.

Presently Belle's phone buzzed in her pocket to signal the arrival of a text and she was dragged back to reality. It was from Emma.

_Henry ill, staying at home to look after him. Ruby will cover but has dentist so not in till 10:30. Sorry for short notice hang in there. E_

Belle could hold her own for a couple of hours, but she wasn't looking forward to meeting Ruby earlier than anticipated. She held nothing but admiration for Emma and the way she juggled her job and being a single mother, and she didn't begrudge her the odd missed shift when something went wrong unexpectedly. Belle's mouth twitched slightly at the memory of being pregnant herself, wondering if, had her circumstances been different, she'd have found herself in the same situation as Emma. She shook herself out of her daydreaming and focused back on the present. She didn't think about the miscarriage often, it was nearly three years ago now, but occasionally she couldn't help but imagine the different paths that her life could have taken. Strangely enough, the path where she and Gary were a happy family never seemed to feature.

Belle finished turning all the chairs the right way up and switched on the till, the back lights in the cake display case, and the coffee machine before unlocking the door and switching the sign to open. She didn't have to wait long for her first customer. Mary Margaret came in for a cup of tea, yawning. She leaned on the counter resting her head in one hand, tracing patterns on the glass top whilst Belle got her drink. Mary Margaret was the first person that Belle had had any kind of contact with when she'd moved to the city, aside from her landlord. Belle had come into the precinct in search of work and made a bee line for the little florist's in one corner next to the huge and intimidating Primark. Her father had worked in plant nurseries all his life and she knew them like the back of her hand, so it had made sense to start at _Fairest Flowers_.

Mary Margaret, the proprietor, was very apologetic that she couldn't offer Belle any work, but seeing the waitressing on her CV she had pointed her in the direction of Granny's, and history had thus been made.

"So," Mary Margaret began, swirling her teabag round in the cardboard takeaway cup absent-mindedly. "How did your date go?"

Belle groaned.

"I told Ruby that everyone in the precinct would know soon."

Mary Margaret raised her eyebrows.

"Belle, I think everyone in the precinct has known for a while. I'm fairly certain that the only people who didn't realise that you were madly in love with each other were, well, each other."

"I wouldn't go as far as madly in love…"

"Well, ok, maybe I was exaggerating… Belle, it's only eight thirty-five. Stop staring out of the window; he won't be in till nine."

"Sorry." Belle grabbed a tea-towel and began to polish the top of the cake display to distract herself. "To answer your original question, it went very well, thank you. We went to Portofino on the corner of the green."

"Oh my God, the tiramisu!" Mary Margaret went off into a little Italian dessert fantasy. "David took me after we got engaged. The puddings are to die for. I could go and have an entire three-course meal just of desserts."

"They were most impressive." Belle grinned. "It was only nerves that stopped me nicking half his cheesecake as well as my tiramisu."

Mary Margaret tutted then took a sip of her tea, yelping when she realised that she had let it brew for far too long and she'd forgotten the sugar. She emptied three sachets into the cup, tested it again and added another.

"Just about drinkable," she pronounced. "Well, I'd better be off. I've got a big delivery of very expensive orchids coming in today. The guy's driving about a hundred miles with them, but it's worth it. The Royal Clarence is paying me a small fortune to do their ballroom and bridal suite arrangements for a big wedding this weekend, and if they're prepared to fork out for orchids then I'm prepared to wait for them." She paused and got her cup lid on after the third try. "I'm glad that you two have _finally _ done something instead of just moping about like lovesick puppies."

Personally, Belle couldn't imagine Gold moping about like a lovesick puppy, but she left it lie. Mary Margaret left the shop with a little wave and Belle wondered how many of the café's other patrons would ask how things were progressing before the morning was through. Thankfully, her next customers weren't at all interested in her love life and she concentrated on doing the work of two people as efficiently as she could until half-past ten and Ruby's arrival. It was a shame that Belle knew she'd only had a check-up and a scale and polish, otherwise she'd be hoping that her friend had had something done which required gauze and anaesthetic and rendered her unable to speak.

"You little devil," were Ruby's first words to her as she came behind the counter tying her apron strings. "You unhooked your phone and switched your mobile off last night so that I couldn't get hold of you."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to enjoy the memories of the evening for a little while before I had to do a detailed date post-mortem with you."

"What if I'd wanted to make sure that you'd arrived home and Gold hadn't kidnapped you?"

"Ruby, I texted you to tell you I'd got back safely."

"Yes, but…" Ruby threw her hands up in despair and her eyes narrowed. "You didn't take him home, did you? Tell me you didn't take him home on the first date…"

"Ruby, of course I didn't take him home on the first date! I live in a one-bedroom ground-floor maisonette on a street populated predominantly by students! I wouldn't take Joe from the Black Horse home to it, let alone rich solicitors I've only known for a week and a half!"

"Thank God. I knew you weren't that type, but when your landline was unavailable I did start wondering at the possibilities… You are absolutely unbelievable, did you know that, Belle French?"

"Yes. I did." When Belle had turned her phone back on that morning, she'd been inundated with messages from Ruby, ranging in tone from threatening to downright pleading.

"So!" said Ruby eagerly. "You've had a night to bask in the glow of it, now you've got to tell me everything. This minute. Right now."

"Ruby, we're running a café here! And we'll be short-staffed come lunchtime…"

"Exactly. Tell me now, before the rush!"

"Fine." Belle proceeded to give Ruby a complete account of the evening from the moment they left the flat. "I got to the green and he was waiting outside the Clarence."

"He took you to the Clarence!" Ruby exclaimed. "You should have excused yourself and phoned me from the ladies!"

"No, he didn't take me to the Clarence."

"Oh, Damn."

Belle continued in her tale, occasionally breaking off to serve customers.

"So, it went well apart from the odd 'not-knowing-what-to-say' moment," Ruby concluded. "Sounds good to me."

Belle nodded.

"It's really quite sweet," she said. "He was obviously quite worried about the age difference between us, but he seemed to relax when I told him it was exactly the same as between my mum and dad."

Ruby raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Older men," she said. "I keep telling you, there's a lot going for them." She grinned. "And you did sort of take him home."

"No, he took me to my home and didn't come inside," Belle countered. "It's entirely different."

They continued in silence for a while before Ruby spoke again.

"You haven't answered the all-important question yet," she said impatiently.

"That being?" Belle asked innocently.

"You said that he drove you home and that was where the story ended. But you did not tell me if he kissed you. Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him, for that matter?"

"Yes. To both. Lips made contact, but not with each other. I kissed his cheek and he reciprocated."

Ruby sighed.

"An excellent start. Tell me more."

"What more is there to tell?" Belle shrugged. "You can't dissect a kiss on the cheek."

Ruby positively exploded at this comment.

"What do you mean 'you can't dissect a kiss on the cheek'? Did you never do kiss analyses with your girlfriends before you moved here?"

"Not really. I was always a bit of a loner. The person I mainly discussed my dates with was my dad, and I didn't really go into kissing dynamics with him. I love him to bits, but that's just weird."

Ruby sighed.

"Well, we have a lot of catching up to do," she said, her voice nothing short of exasperated. "Was it a quick peck, or more lingering, as if he was hoping he could sort of work his way round to your mouth?"

"It was a kiss, Ruby! I don't know!"

"You are hopeless," said Ruby plainly. "I want you to make detailed notes next time. Think, my girl, think!"

Belle suppressed a howl of frustration.

"I don't think he would have done it if I hadn't kissed him first, but it lasted a little bit too long for him just to be doing it out of courtesy. My gut instinct is that yes, he wanted to kiss me, but he was too scared to make the first move. Is that enough analysis?"

Ruby nodded with a happy sigh.

"There really is no surprise that you two took so long to do anything," she said. "You're both as bad as each other."

"There was only one thing that truly puzzled me." Belle paused.

"What's that then?"

"Well, I told you that I felt a bit bad because he bought me wine when he wasn't drinking, and at the time I was more focused on that, but in hindsight something wasn't right." Belle thought back to the comment he'd made.

_Your father's a lucky man._ Lucky at being able to tell when he was up at the limit? For a few moments there had been a strange, haunted look in his eyes, the ghost of something long past behind them.

"Maybe he got done for drink-driving once or something," Ruby suggested.

"No, he said he'd always had a clean licence." Belle shrugged and Ruby followed suit.

"I'd keep an eye on the collecting habit if I were you though." Her friend looked at her sagely. "Just in case. You might end up with an obsessive-compulsive hoarder on your hands."

Belle gave her friend a hug.

"Ruby, I won't break. I'm tougher than you think. I've got a failed marriage behind me and an extensive collection of filthy books. I think I can handle life's eccentrics."

"I know," said Ruby. "And I really can't believe that he _is_ an obsessive-compulsive hoarder. He doesn't strike me as one. Hello, what can I get for you today, stranger? It's been a while since we've seen you in these parts."

"Coffee please. Who doesn't strike you as an obsessive-compulsive hoarder?"

Belle turned at the voice.

"Dad?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, that's a nice way to welcome your old man," Moe said with feigned indignation. "I've just driven a hundred miles to see you."

"That's a lie, Dad, you know I work all day on Fridays and you never come to see me then."

"Ok, you caught me out. You couldn't whip me up a strong black coffee, could you, Sweetheart? I've been on my feet since half-past five,"

"Apart from the two hours you were sitting in your van on the motorway," Belle pointed out as she made the coffee.

"That'll be one eighty please, Mr French," said Ruby at the till.

"What? Can't I get family discount?"

"Dad, we don't get staff discount, so no, you can't get family-of-staff discount. Students get ten per cent off though, so enrol up at the uni and you could get a discount that way." Belle handed over Moe's cup. "So, what _has_ brought you down here."

"Huge order." Moe beamed. "I've just delivered a couple of grand of orchids to the little shop round the corner."

Belle burst out laughing.

"Mary Margaret said she was expecting a big delivery this morning but I never dreamed it might be from you." She leaned over the counter to hug her father. "It's honestly good to see you, Dad. I was just surprised."

"Actually, since I'm here, there is something I need to talk to you about." Moe's expression was apologetic, and Belle's heart sank to her boots.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ per se," Moe said. His eyes flickered to Ruby, and Belle could tell that whatever he wanted to say, he wanted to tell her in private first. "Could you take a break and come out with me for a bit?"

Belle grimaced.

"Not really, it's nearly the rush and we're short-staffed today as it is."

Moe looked crestfallen, and Ruby hastened to remedy the situation.

"The rush should be over by three if you can hang on till then. I should be able to cope on my own for a bit."

Moe nodded and said his goodbyes, and Belle watched her father out of the door. Ruby raised her eyebrows.

"Wonder what that's going to be about?" she asked.

Belle shook her head. She didn't know, and she didn't want to think about it. Normally Moe just phoned her any important news. Belle had always been close to her father, even before her mother had died and they'd made the move to the UK from Australia. Although she was thousands of miles away from the rest of her relations, Belle hadn't minded the drastic uprooting because she'd had her dad, and that was what was important. He had been protective of his only child, certainly, but he had never tried to hide anything from her, always making sure that she was in full possession of the facts.

And he had always taken her side without question. When Belle had left Gary, Moe had welcomed her back into his home to lick her wounds without a word. There could be no question that Moe loved his daughter dearly and hated to see her unhappy, and it had been obvious to Belle that he knew his news was going to make her so. She dreaded to think what it could be, and by the time three o'clock came around, her hands were shaking so much that she could barely work the coffee machine.

"Go," Ruby said, taking her trembling fingers and squeezing them. "You'll be doing more harm than good soon. Go and wait for him outside."

Belle nodded and did as Ruby said, pulling on her green fleece over her uniform. Moe arrived dead on time and they walked a little further into the precinct, finding an empty bench on which to have their conversation.

"So, what's up?" Belle asked, once the usual opening chit-chat had been passed. She was trying very hard to keep the quaver out of her voice.

"Well, I thought you'd appreciate hearing this in person and hearing it from me first," Moe began.

"Are you ill?" Belle interrupted quickly. Moe shook his head. "Are you moving back to Australia?"

"No, nothing like that."

Belle immediately relaxed. Every other possibility she was fairly sure she could contend with.

"No, Belle, it's nothing to do with me at all really." Moe sighed. "It's Gary. He's been… He's been making noise about a reconciliation. He's been saying it's nearly two years and you still aren't divorced so he wants to make another go of it with you."

Belle froze.

"Well, I don't want to make another go of it with him," she said, her voice brittle. "I have a new life here, one I've built myself from scratch. I'm seeing someone new. I actually feel like I'm moving forward for once, which I never did before."

"I know, Sweetheart." Moe put an arm around his daughter. "I wasn't suggesting that you ought to go back to him. I was just warning you, because no matter what, you are still legally married."

"Don't remind me." Belle groaned and buried her face in her hands. She'd planned to tell the truth (well, correct the misappreciation) to Gold last night, but at the last moment her courage had failed her and she'd hidden behind the flimsy excuse that past marriages were not first date conversation material.

"I'm sure it'll all work out, Belle," Moe said, squeezing her shoulders. "And remember, I've always got your corner. So, tell me about this new man of yours."

Belle found herself recounting her date for the third time that day. She didn't mind, far from it, but this time she was acutely aware of her father's news hanging over her like a slowly ticking time bomb. Something was going to have to be done.

All too soon it was time for her to say goodbye to her father, wish him a safe journey home and go back to the café, where Ruby was waiting for her, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Granny's just been in; she says shes giving August a trial run and if he doesn't make a pig's ear of it, he's in. We'll get to check him out and see if he's suitable for Emma…" She tailed off on seeing her friend's obvious abstraction. "Belle, sorry, here I am gabbling on. What was your dad's news?"

"I'll tell you after closing," Belle said, wishing she could summon up more power and enthusiasm in her voice. Ruby nodded and the rest of their shift was spent in comparative quiet. On the stroke of six, Ruby locked the doors and perched on one of the bar stools by the window, patting the one next to it. Belle began at the beginning, and before long, everything was spilling out, her entire sorry story. She had never revealed the full extent of what had happened before she'd moved; she had simply informed her then-colleagues and now-friends that she was separated from her husband and ready for a fresh start. Now, she couldn't help but tell Ruby – a calm, sympathetic shoulder to cry on – everything. The dwindling relationship, the pregnancy, the marriage, the miscarriage, the rebound; it all came out in a rush of snotty tears. By the time she'd finished, Ruby had run out of tissues from her pocket pack. Her friend did not say anything for a long while, simply wrapping her arms around Belle and letting her snuffle to her last.

"It'll all work out in the wash, Belle, you'll see," she whispered eventually. "You'll see,"

Belle could only hope that Ruby was right.

* * *

**To be continued**


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: **YAY! I AM HAPPY! Ahem. Thanks to some kind Youtube user, I saw the answer to the ultimate question 'did Gold and Belle kiss in S2Ep1?' with my own two little eyes and now I can resign myself to waiting until February and the UK premiere with a light heart. Oh, and thank you, guest reviewers!

**Note2: **I've been a bit lax about characters here, so time to remedy the situation. Hopefully everyone's identities have been fairly self-explanatory thus far but I'll put a note just in case. **Gary** is Gaston, **Fox** is Midas, and **Dawn Stephens **and **Marina Tempest** (who have roles in this chapter and the next) are the 'Storybrooke-ified' names I give to Sleeping Beauty's Aurora and Little Mermaid's Ariel respectively. (SB and LM are my favourite fairy tales after Beauty and the Beast and Cinderella, so naturally I had to try and OUAT them when they weren't in the first series…)

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Eight**

It was clear that August Booth was already a hit at Granny's despite only having worked there for one day. When Belle had come in at half-past two on Saturday, she'd received her first glimpse of the man for whom Ruby had such high hopes when it came to matchmaking with Emma, and she could categorically state that he was not at all what she'd been expecting. Not that she could really describe what she _had_ been expecting, but she knew that August wasn't it, not when her first words to him, after a ludicrously over-excited Ruby had made the initial introductions, were 'I take it that's your motorbike outside'.

It was now Monday afternoon, and Ruby was still enthusing, having spent the majority of the previous day in raptures of the grand romance that she was planning between their colleagues. Belle had yet to point out that August had seemed to be more interested in Ruby herself on Saturday, and didn't really appear to be the sort who would go for a single mother with a ten-year-old son. August had agreed to take on all Astrid's old shifts as they were, no changing around required, so Emma would not meet him until Wednesday morning. It would be very interesting to see how they interacted.

For her part, Belle's feelings towards her new workmate were mixed. She found him self-assured to the point of arrogance, even if this confidence was sometimes sadly misplaced. (He'd been telling Ruby a tale of his extensive travels, including meeting lemurs in Nepal. Belle had, just within earshot, muttered something about being sure that lemurs only lived in Madagascar, and August had hastily moved on to another adventure.) On the other hand, he was capable and efficient, and had an excellent manner with the customers. And, as much as she hated to say it, he was a lot more trustworthy with a bread knife than Astrid had ever been. Of course it would take a while for them all to get used to each other after so long unchanged, but at that moment, Belle was optimistic, as long as they could keep his novelist's imagination under control. Especially when he was introduced to Emma, and especially if they wanted the two of them to hit it off on a more than professional level. Emma had always had the uncanny knack of knowing when people were telling her the truth, and lies to impress her generally wound up having the opposite effect.

Belle finished wiping the coffee machine and withdrew from her thoughts to find Ruby still expounding on the same theme as she had been when Belle had slipped into a daydream.

"In conclusion, my hopes are quite high," her friend finished, returning her attention to restocking the cake plates. Unseen by Ruby, Belle raised an eyebrow.

"I'm still thinking about the Nepalese lemurs," she said. "If we can get past that sticking point then we might be onto a winner. I must admit, though, I'm impressed by him in one respect."

"What's that?"

"It's been nearly forty-eight hours and you haven't mentioned your date with Archie."

"Haven't I? Oh my word, how very lackadaisical of me." Ruby stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Where to begin, where to begin?"

"The beginning?" Belle suggested.

It took another hour, interspersed with customers, for Ruby to tell her tale, concluding with the happy news that they were going to see a Beatles tribute band at the arts centre that evening.

"I never knew you liked the Beatles," Belle said.

"Well, I've never really had an opinion one way or the other," her friend replied. "But Archie really likes them so I'm giving it a go. You never know, I might discover a hitherto unknown love of Paul McCartney. Plus, the last time I went to the arts centre with Granny, we bumped into Mary Margaret and David and we all ended up in the Black Horse until closing time. It was a good night. I think David felt a bit outnumbered though. He's always been scared of Granny, and I don't know why."

"Didn't she threaten to shoot him once?" Belle asked. She'd heard about the incident from three separate people on three separate occasions and none of the stories seemed to correlate.

"Oh, yes, that's probably it. I'd forgotten about that."

"Can I ask _why_ she threatened to shoot him?"

"It was just before he and Mary got married. We were doing the catering for the reception and Granny threatened to take a crossbow to his head if he dropped the cake on the way from the kitchen to the car."

"Why a crossbow?"

"Why does Granny threaten anyone with anything? She's more creative than serious. She'd never carry through." Ruby seemed remarkably confident of this fact, but from Belle's experience of running the café with Granny on Sunday mornings, she wasn't quite so convinced. Mrs Lucas could be extremely single-minded if she wanted to be.

"Enough about my love life," said Ruby suddenly. "What about yours, and Emma's? I'm thinking of shutting her and August in the fridge on Thursday and seeing what happens."

"If they don't freeze to death then they'll probably take Granny's crossbow to you."

"They could share body heat to keep warm."

"Ruby, you are despicable." Belle shook her head in disbelief.

"I know, and you love me for it. What about you? Any further developments?"

"Not since you last asked," Belle said, beginning to put away all the tea jars ready for closing time in half an hour. The café was empty apart from an old man reading the paper in one corner who had been there since lunchtime. He looked to be asleep, and Belle was wondering about going over and checking he actually had a pulse.

"Maybe I'll see Gold at the Beatles tonight. If I do, do you want me to ring you so that you can pretend to be 'just passing' as it finishes and we can all go to the Black Horse till one in the morning?"

"No, because I have to work tomorrow morning and I don't think 'I'm hungover' is quite as credible an excuse as having a sick child to look after. I'm seeing him on Thursday, so you can think of me whilst you're locking Emma and August in the fridge."

"I could lock you and Gold in the fridge instead," Ruby mused.

"I'm sure I can get on quite well without that," Belle said hastily.

"Well, if you're sure, but the offer still stands."

Belle rolled her eyes and was about to go over and check that the old man was still on the earthly plane when a voice from the doorway distracted her.

"Oh, Belle, Ruby, you've got to help me! Sid's going to kill me!"

It was Dawn, the trainee solicitor at Guildhall working under Sidney Glass. She rushed into the café and half-collapsed on the counter, leading Belle to believe, for one horrifying second, that her supervisor had indeed just pulled a knife on her.

"Ok, Dawn, calm down." Ruby flung her tea towel over her shoulder and came out from behind the counter, taking the sobbing younger woman by the upper arms and steering her in a firm but friendly manner towards the nearest table. "You sit down and tell us what happened."

It was in moments like this that Ruby proved herself truly Granny's granddaughter. As scatterbrained as she usually was and as doomed to failure as her ideas often were, Ruby could cope admirably in crises that weren't of her own making. Having been brought up in the catering business even before she'd started waitressing herself, Ruby believed in the healing power of a cup of tea above all else, except, on occasion, the healing power of David Attenborough. ("He's amazing," she'd said once. "His documentaries make me feel all intelligent. And he reminds me of my Uncle Stanley." At this point, Granny had exclaimed that Stanley looked nothing like David Attenborough, and the ensuing argument had lasted the best part of a week.) Belle made a cup of tea and brought it over to the table where Ruby was sitting next to Dawn, who was explaining why her supervisor was going to murder her.

It turned out that she and Sid were working on a big case together and Dawn had managed to mislay some important paperwork. By the time she'd realised what had happened, the paperwork in question was in the shredder in several small bits.

"So now Sid is going to murder me and I'm going to fail my training contract," Dawn moaned, taking a sip of her tea.

"Well, I think that killing you is a touch drastic," Ruby said cheerfully. "And surely one mistake won't fail you."

"It's not the first time," Dawn said.

"Not the first time you accidentally shredded your case?"

"Not the first time I've made a mistake. Sid's caught me napping on the job twice now."

"Ah…" Ruby didn't have a reply to that, because it was a well-acknowledged fact that Dawn could drop off anywhere when given five minutes of peace and quiet. "Well…"

"Miss Stephens?"

A now-familiar voice was calling from the door, and Dawn slid so low in her seat that she was almost under it. Belle glanced over her shoulder on hearing the low, Scottish tones. Gold was standing in the doorway looking around the now practically empty café – the old man had vanished so he had evidently just been asleep rather than dead. He smiled when he caught Belle's eye, a weary, tired-looking smile that gave her the impression that she was about the only good thing that his day had held thus far.

"Hi, Belle," he said, coming into the shop and making his way towards her. "I'm looking for Miss Stephens."

"Not Gold," Dawn whimpered, actually under the table now.

"Erm, I, erm…" Ruby began, jumping up and moving round the table to try and conceal Dawn from view. "She's…"

"She's under the table, isn't she?" Gold interrupted. He sat down heavily on Ruby's vacated chair and stretched his leg out, grimacing slightly. Belle guessed the cold snap that had set in on Sunday wasn't doing it any favours, and her romantic imagination soared off into flights of fancy wondering how he came by the limp.

"Miss Stephens," Gold began, "I don't know what you're trying to achieve down there, but I want to talk to you. Since my knee is killing me, there's no way I'm getting under the table with you, so will you please come up here?"

Reluctantly, Dawn got up.

"Why did you come after me?" she asked mournfully.

"It might have escaped your notice, but it's gone half-five and there's no-one else in the office," Gold replied. "I could, of course, have left you to your own devices, but when I heard a stream of profanity directed at the shredder, closely followed by an exclamation of 'Sid's going to kill me', this in turn followed by you rushing out of the building crying your eyes out, I assumed you had a problem and might require the assistance of a senior. Forgive my chivalry, I'll ignore you and leave you to muddle through your predicaments on your own in future."

His voice was betraying his irritation now, and Belle knew that she was probably well on the way to seeing the Gold that Ashley had described as a terror.

"Sorry," Dawn said. "I thought you were going to yell at me."

"I might do that yet, but I need to know what's actually happened before I judge just how idiotic you've been."

Dawn relayed her tale again, Gold's expression becoming ever graver.

"Well, yes, I'd agree that you made a complete mess of that, and it is no-one's fault but your own," he said eventually.

"What am I going to do?" Dawn cried. "Half our evidence is in little pieces in the shredder."

"Are you any good at jigsaw puzzles?" Gold asked. "I can lend you some superglue." He sighed. "It's simple. You've got three choices. You can attempt to break into Sid's office, see if he's got any copies of your evidence, make another photocopy for yourself and pretend it never happened, although that's probably more trouble than it's worth considering today's mishaps. You can pretend it never happened until Sid wants to see the evidence and spin some kind of excuse as to why you don't have it. Or you can call your supervisor and confess your mistake."

Dawn rested her head in her hands.

"I don't know what to do."

Gold flexed his knee and winced. Belle noticed the action and slipped back behind the counter, leaving Ruby hovering beside Dawn like a faithful guard dog.

"Dawn, if you were my trainee, I'd far rather that you just owned up," she heard Gold say as she rummaged in the first aid box for some paracetamol. "I had a trainee lose a client's decree absolute once. The poor woman ended up married for three months longer than she should have been."

"What did you do?"

"I roasted him alive and ate him, what do you think I did?" Gold said sourly. The muted squeak told Belle that Dawn had evidently half-believed her superior. "Oh for crying out loud, am I honestly that scary? I advised him how to sort it out and he qualified the next year with no trouble."

Belle brought the paracetamol round and put it on the table in front of Gold, who looked at her like she'd just handed him the crown jewels. He popped one of the capsules out of the blister pack and swallowed it with a swig of Dawn's tea, much to the trainee's consternation.

"Can you advise me?" she asked.

"No, but Sid can."

"Yes, but Sid is… What are you doing?" she yelped.

"I'm phoning Sid," Gold replied, his voice perfectly matter-of-fact.

"But!"

"But he's in court tomorrow and Wednesday and these things shouldn't be put off. Hello, Sid, it's Gold, I've got your trainee attempting to hide from the world under a café table here because she thinks you're going to kill her. I'll let her tell you why."

He passed the phone over to Dawn, who gave him nothing short of a death glare. Gold merely shrugged and eased himself up out of his seat to allow her to talk to her supervisor more privately. Ruby tapped her watch and Belle nodded; it was six o'clock and time to start putting the café to bed. Gold leaned on the counter as Belle began tidying up behind it.

"Thank you for the paracetamol," he said presently.

"Not a problem," Belle replied, covering the cakes in the display case with clingfilm. "Thank you for sorting Dawn out."

"Best to get these things done sooner rather than later. I've only known her for three months but if there's one thing I've learned about Miss Stephens, it is her tendency towards blind panic."

Belle finished wiping up and leaned on the counter opposite Gold.

_Tell him_, her brain supplied helpfully. _It's got to be said sooner or later._ Belle grimaced inwardly at the thought. The weekend had passed with no word from Gary, and a little part of her was hoping that if she ignored it, it would all go away, or at the very least she could get it sorted out quietly.

"So, Belle…" Gold began. "Have you decided where we're going on Thursday?"

"Yes. I'm still not going to tell you, though."

Gold smiled, but it quickly broke off into an ill-disguised yawn.

"Don't fall asleep on the counter; you're as bad as Dawn," Ruby said as she breezed past with the mop and bucket. "Do you think you ought to go home to bed, Mr Gold?"

He snorted.

"I wish. Half my paperwork is still out in my office and Miss Stephens has my phone." He turned back to Belle. "I was thinking earlier, and I realised that I don't have any way of contacting you except via the medium of tea and cake."

"Indeed. Likewise, I have no way of contacting you aside from making an appointment with your secretary."

Gold took out a pen and pulled the order pad towards him, scrawling two numbers on it. Belle peered at them.

"Home, mobile," he pointed out.

"I can tell which is which. What I can't tell is whether your sixes are sixes or noughts."

"My handwriting can't be _that_ bad." He elongated the strokes on the sixes. "Better?"

"Very much so." Belle wrote her own numbers on the bottom of the pad, ensuring that all her digits were perfectly legible, and she tore the sheet in half. Gold pocketed his piece and resumed his position leaning on the counter. He gave a little half-smile, and in that moment, Belle found his mouth incredibly inviting. She leaned in closer over the counter, hoping that Ruby was distracted with floor-mopping and not watching her.

_No! Don't kiss him, you idiot!_ Her brain was screaming at her. _Tell him!_

There were about two inches between them, Gold evidently having been leaning in as well, when Dawn skidded up to them holding out Gold's phone.

"Crisis averted," she said happily. "Turns out that I had the photocopies and Sid has the originals in his office. Sorry, was I interrupting something?" she asked, no doubt having noticed the way that Belle had sprung back from the counter as if she'd been stung.

"No, no," said Gold, running a hand through his hair and failing miserably to hide his discomfiture at their moment being cut short. "Not at all."

"Well, I'd best get back to the office and tidy up," Dawn said brightly. "I'll see you around, Belle. Bye, Ruby!"

"Bye, Dawn."

Gold groaned.

"I'll have to go after her. I locked the building when I left and her keys are on her desk."

He straightened up and made to leave, but on impulse Belle leaned all the way over the counter and caught his lapel.

"Wait."

Belle went for broke. Gary could come back into her life at any moment, and who knew what might end up happening then? She pressed her lips against Gold's as she'd so nearly done before. He tensed slightly, caught unawares, but soon relaxed into the kiss, his free hand coming up to cup her face and hold her steady.

"Mr Gold, I need your keys… I _knew_ I was interrupting something!"

Dawn's voice took Belle by surprise and before she could stop herself, her teeth had clamped down on Gold's lip. She sprang back on his exclamation of pain and cursed.

"I'm so sorry," she began, wringing her hands.

"It's all right." Gold ran his tongue over the place she'd nipped. "No harm done." For a moment, his smile was positively Mephistophelean and it made Belle want to grab him again and kiss it all better. "Till Thursday, Miss French."

"Till Thursday, Mr Gold."

He moved off towards the door, pushing the grinning Dawn through it with a gruff and slightly embarrassed-sounding 'all right, get a move on, nothing to see here'.

As he moved out of her line of sight, Belle saw Ruby standing in one corner of the café, her arms folded around her mop and an eyebrow raised, having witnessed the entire thing.

"Oh, shut up," Belle muttered.

"Never said a word," Ruby protested. "But I may as well say it now: About bloody time!"

* * *

**To be continued**


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: **Thank you, guest reviewers!

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Nine**

Belle was so lost in thought that she nearly missed her bus stop and skidded the length of the vehicle just as the driver was closing the doors. It was Thursday, and she was putting her master plan into action with some degree of trepidation. She had been tempted on several occasions over the last two days to call the whole thing off. Her father's visit the previous week still hung heavy in her mind, and she was even more on edge because the phone call from Gary that she'd been expecting had not yet arrived. At least she'd made her mind up to do something about it, though. Granny had given in to Ruby's entreaties and agreed to host a party for Astrid and Leroy on Saturday night, and she'd be closing the café for the weekend to give them time to prepare and to recover. Belle was going to go back to her dad's on the Sunday to get things sorted out. She would see Gary, tell him that a reconciliation was out of the question, and get the phone number of a local solicitor. Needing legal advice and stumped for who to ask, Belle had rung Ashley and sworn her to secrecy. Her friend had advised against getting Gold to handle the proceedings.

"It's called 'being emotionally involved'," Ashley had said. "If he's any sense he wouldn't take the case."

"I thought you said that he took any case as long as the price was right!" Belle exclaimed.

"I don't think that even Gold is unscrupulous enough not to draw the line at handling his girlfriend's divorce." Ashley'd replied. "At best he'd get in too deep and jeopardise the case. At worst he'd be accused of professional misconduct with the possibility of being struck off."

Ashley was right, of course. Now that they'd begun their relationship, she really couldn't ask Gold to get her and Gary divorced. The big problem that she faced now was how to tell him that she was married in the first place. For a brief moment she'd considered chickening out and getting Ruby to do it for her. She'd already made up her mind to ask her friend to come with her on Sunday, to stop her getting off the train three stations too early and hitch-hiking back home if not for actual moral support when confronting Gary. She wished that she could just stuff her old existence back in its little box where she'd kept it hidden away before, but she knew that wouldn't resolve matters. She had run away from her problems for long enough, but she still couldn't bring herself to take the bull by the horns.

Belle hurried round the corner and into the precinct, stopping outside the café. It felt strange not to be wearing her uniform and standing on the other side of the counter, but her inner confusion was nothing compared to Emma's expression of perplexity when she walked in.

"I could have sworn it was Thursday," she murmured. "Maybe I'm wrong."

"No, it is Thursday," Belle said, trying very hard not to burst out laughing.

"But you're here. You're never here on a Thursday!"

"Well, believe it or not, Emma, I am here in my less well-known role as a paying customer."

"Oh. All right. What can I get for you today?"

Belle reeled off her order without looking at the menu; she'd been working at the café for so long that she knew it inside out and back to front.

"Well, is this your grand master plan?" Ruby asked as she came out from behind the kitchen partition, grinning wolfishly.

"Oh yes." Belle matched her expression. "Ruby, I'm doing the unthinkable. I'm taking a man for a takeaway on a park bench."

Ruby rolled her eyes.

"We do not provide 'takeaways', Belle, we are far too upmarket for that. We provide picnics, with the added advantage of not having to use chopsticks or plastic cutlery, thus meaning that we are a perfectly acceptable choice for a date location, whether you are eating in or out."

"Erm, am I the only one in the dark here?" August asked from the coffee machine.

"Yes," chorused Emma and Ruby in unison. August appeared to accept this with good grace and went back to making up Belle's order.

"How are the fridge plans going?" Belle asked Ruby once Emma was out of earshot in the kitchen.

"Well, atrociously, if I'm being honest. I can't cope on my own during the rush and Emma leaves as soon as it's over, so I haven't had any opportunity." Ruby's eyes narrowed. "You could have done it yesterday on my behalf."

"It was your idea, Ruby, and I wanted you to have the satisfaction of enacting it yourself."

Ruby had been most put-out when she'd realised that she was on her day off on Wednesday and wouldn't be in the café to witness Emma and August's first meeting, so she'd made Belle report back in minute detail. As far as Belle could tell, they seemed to be getting on very well. When she'd arrived they'd been chatting away nineteen to the dozen, and August seemed to be genuinely interested in what Emma had to say. He hadn't run a mile when she'd mentioned Henry, either.

"Belle!" Emma called, and Belle saw her holding up a paper bag containing her order.

"I'll let you know if I make any progress!" Ruby whispered. "Remember, I expect a full date dissection afterwards, and don't forget to invite him to Saturday!"

"Do you really think that's wise?" Belle asked.

"Oh yes. It's the perfect opportunity to introduce him to all of us so that he can get our approval. I'm bringing Archie for the same reason."

"Ruby, you all already know him and have given your approval."

"It's the principle of the thing! And we don't really know him, we just know his tea preferences."

"Bye, Ruby," Belle said, leaving the café.

"Now, August," she heard Ruby saying over her shoulder. "It's high time you were brought up to speed on the epic romance of Belle and Mr Gold from over the way, a courtship that has been going on for over three months, despite the fact that the participants had never had any contact with each other until two-and-a-half weeks ago…"

It was a shame that she only had to take about ten steps before she reached her second destination. Not only was she certain that Ruby was watching her every move from behind the counter, she'd wanted a little bit more time to formulate her opening gambit. She waited outside the door to the offices for a little while, wondering if she should go in and say something to Kathryn. She did have an appointment, after all.

The door opened before she could make a decision.

"Hello. I do believe we've been in this position before." Gold grinned down at her, stepping out of the door and pulling it closed behind him, the receptionist's call of 'don't forget you've got the Andersons at two o'clock!' being cut off midway. "All right, Miss French, I am ready to be surprised. Lead on."

He offered her his left arm and Belle curled her fingers round it, feeling his warmth through the soft wool of his coat. She steered them out of the precinct in the direction of the library and the castle gardens beyond.

"Now, technically," Belle began, "as Granny's employee, I'm not supposed to frequent rival lunch-providing establishments in the area, so I thought that as long as she provided the lunch, she couldn't complain about us eating it somewhere else."

Gold laughed.

"We'll make a lawyer of you yet. We thrive on technicalities."

Belle shook her head.

"After Dawn and Ashley's tales of woe, I don't think that a career change is on the cards just yet. Speaking on the subject, though, how's your temp?"

"Surviving," said Gold cheerfully. "Just about. She was nearly out on her ear the other day when she misspelled 'Guildhall', though. I think that, between us, Sid and I are doing a very good job of scaring her into working well."

"You never scared Ashley. Just frustrated her sometimes."

"Yes, well, Miss Boyd gives as good as she gets. I learned that quite quickly."

They had just rounded the corner of the library into the side-street that led to the gardens when Gold stopped suddenly. Belle's brow furrowed.

"What's up?" she asked as he pulled his arm out of her hold, but in reply he pulled her into a kiss, ignoring her muted squeal of surprise.

"Revenge for Monday," he murmured with a wry smile when he finally released her. Belle laughed.

"At least you didn't bite me."

Gold raised an eyebrow.

"I could do if you wanted," he offered.

"No, thank you. It might make lunch slightly painful, especially as I have ginger lemon tea, and it'll sting."

"Eminently practical."

"I know." Belle slipped her arm back through his and they continued the last hundred or so yards towards a bench in the gardens. It was a comparatively mild day considering the season, and a weak sun was shining. From their position, they could look out over the entire town.

"I come here all the time to read," Belle explained. "Even in winter, I feel it has a certain beauty about it."

Gold nodded, but he was looking at her and not his surroundings. Belle turned her attention to her bag to hide her blush.

"Brie and cranberry or tomato and mozzarella?" she asked brightly, fishing out two foil wrapped toasted sandwiches. Gold reached out to take one but then drew back. "What's wrong?"

"I am usually quite adept at eating toasted sandwiches, and I do adore brie. But I am very worried that Murphy's law will result in it oozing onto my tie."

Belle laughed.

"Take it off, then," she suggested. Gold looked at her as if she had gone utterly insane for a moment, then complied, stowing the purple silk in his coat pocket and undoing his collar.

"I feel naked now," he complained. "I'm not properly dressed."

Belle handed him his sandwich and cast a critical eye over him. It was the first time that she had seen him minus tie, although she'd penned him minus several other garments on numerous occasions. She was very nearly on the verge of getting carried away in her imagination when a bite of sandwich went down the wrong way and she was brought back to reality with a heavy thwack between her shoulder blades.

"Are you all right?"

Belle nodded, acutely embarrassed, and she fished out the tea to distract her, taking a sip to soothe her throat. Gold took the lid off his cup and blew on it to get it to a more drinkable temperature. The steam made her realise the chill in the air and she shivered involuntarily.

"Cold, Miss French?" Gold asked.

"A bit."

Belle surveyed him over the top of her cup; he raised an eyebrow and took her up on her unspoken offer, scooting closer to her on the bench and putting an arm round her. She snuggled into his side a little. Locked in cold storage or not, they were sharing body heat. Ruby would be proud. They continued to eat in silence, enjoying the closeness. Belle's mind was in turmoil, trying to think about several things at once: Gold, Gary, whether Ruby had carried through on her fridge plans, the party, Sunday, the way Gold kept her pulled into his side…

A brainwave hit her.

"What are you doing on Saturday?" she asked suddenly.

"Why?"

_Because I have a confession to make and I'd like to make it in the afternoon so that if it all goes pear-shaped I can count on Ruby to cheer me up at the party afterwards._

"Because Ruby's having a party and she thinks it would be an excellent opportunity to get to know you." Well, it _was_ true.

Gold's mouth twitched.

"I have to go to Winchester on Saturday," he said. "It's a six-hour round trip and I'm not sure what frame of mind I'll be in when I get back."

"What's in Winchester?"

"It's where I used to live." His voice was quiet, closed. "What time is this party? I might be able to be unfashionably late. I wouldn't be able to escort you, is what I mean. It would be quite interesting to see if your friend is as mad as my initial impressions have led me to believe."

"Oh, she's worse," Belle assured. "She's bringing her Archie; I thought you might be able to give each other moral support. Everything's kicking off at about half-seven."

"If he's going out with Ruby then he'll probably need it." He paused. "I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try."

"Can't ask for more than that. Thank you."

Damn. That plan had come to absolutely nothing. Perhaps she could tell him _at_ the party. Find a quiet corner in the kitchen and just come out with it. Then Ruby would be on hand, and he wouldn't make a scene in public in someone else's house, surely? On second thoughts, perhaps it wouldn't be quite such a good idea. If she could get through the next couple of days and set things in motion on Sunday, then she could at least tell him that she was doing something about it when she did tell him.

"Now then, Miss French," Gold began. "What have you got for dessert? Because I'm fairly certain that the wedges of carrot cake that you cut wouldn't fit in that bag."

"Well, I'm not the one doing the cutting today." Belle grinned. "But I have something special instead."

She pulled out Granny's latest _pièce de résistance_. Gold stared at it for a moment and burst out laughing.

"Are those carrot cake cupcakes?"

"Indeed they are. Granny's famous carrot cake, now in an easily portable form." The cupcakes were miniatures of the large cake in every way, even down to the sugar carrots on the top. "Granny's been working on them for a while and they only went on sale this morning. You are among the first to taste them."

"I am duly honoured." He held his cake up in a toast and knocked it against Belle's. "To the carrot cupcakes, long may they continue."

As the icing on the cakes kissed, so Belle leaned up to capture Gold's mouth, no tension on either of their parts this time. He tasted of tea and cranberry, and Belle sighed in happiness against his lips. She would have been quite happy to stay like that for an awful lot longer, but she was in danger of dropping the cake, so she broke away and busied herself in peeling the case off.

"Gold," she began, and tailed off. "Seriously, does everyone call you just Gold?"

"Everyone with any degree of sense," he replied. "Well, my parents never did, of course, but then parents are a law unto themselves. No, everyone's called me just Gold for as long as I can remember. Even my ex-wife called me Gold." He stopped suddenly and took a sharp intake of breath.

"Ex-wife?" Belle asked tentatively, willing him onwards. This was it; this was her opening to talk about Gary.

"Sorry, ex-spouses on the second date, that's not a good start. Divorced fifteen years ago, so let's move on. Swiftly."

_No, let's not_, said Belle's brain. _My ex-spouse isn't actually ex yet… _She sighed, she shouldn't have reacted, because he'd mistaken the tone of hope in her voice for one of disapproval, and now the line of conversation was closed. Gold was already talking about something else, and Belle had already made up her mind to keep quiet until after Sunday, when she could tell him that the matter was in hand. So she left it lie, and let him steer the conversation on to her childhood in Australia, his in Scotland, the carrot cakes; whilst she stayed nestled into his side and feeling as if she belonged there.

Presently Gold looked at his watch and groaned.

"It's quarter to two. Although I would far rather stay here with you, I have an appointment to keep."

Belle nodded.

"The Andersons."

"Yes. Unfortunately. Let's just say that they aren't my favourite clients," he added on seeing Belle's raised eyebrow. He unwrapped his arm from round her so that he could refasten his collar button and put his tie back on, and she missed his touch immediately.

"Hopefully, I shall see you on Saturday," he said.

"Ninety-three, Station Road, just down from the, erm, station," Belle said. "Knowing Ruby she'll have a big banner outside saying 'sorry you're leaving, Astrid'." She smiled and gathered up the remains of their lunch. "Might we be seeing you tomorrow to partake of the carrot cupcakes?"

"Sadly, no, I'm in court all day and then I have to go and see a client in Barnstable. I'll be thinking about them though. And about the person selling them even more."

Properly dressed again, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Thank you for lunch. You've cheered up the prospect of the afternoon no end."

"Thank you for coming. I'll see you soon?"

He grinned.

"Definitely."

"Good luck!" Belle called after him as he moved away. "Try not to frighten your temp too much!"

"I'll try!"

He paused and gave a little wave before he disappeared back down the hill towards the precinct. Belle pulled her knees up to her chest on the bench. She should have told him; she'd had the absolutely perfect opportunity and she was angry with herself for being a coward and not taking it.

She would have to tell him soon. But then again… Would he have told her about his first wife if he hadn't brought it up by accident?

_It's not the same_, her brain chided. _He isn't still married to his._

"Oh, shut up," she told herself crossly, and she focused on the memory of the feel of his lips against hers. She had that if nothing else.

X

He should have told her, Gold thought irritably. He should have come straight out with it when she'd asked him what was in Winchester.

_My son's grave is in Winchester and Saturday is the anniversary of his death._

He couldn't keep it from her forever. She now knew he'd been married before; it would only be a matter of time before she delved deeper into his life pre-Guildhall.

Enough of that. If he got there on Saturday and she asked him what he'd been doing, he would tell her. If he wasn't in a particularly sociable mood after the visit, then he'd forgo meeting Ruby and make a date to tell her on Sunday.

Gold opened the door to the offices and stopped short on seeing what appeared to be the entire company hovering in the reception area around Kathryn's desk.

"What?" he began, but Marina – Fox and Regina's secretary – waved at him to be quiet. From the floor above, two voices could clearly be heard arguing.

"It's Mr Glass and Ms Mills," Kathryn whispered. "They're having a…" She fumbled for a delicate way to put it. Marina rolled her eyes and took over.

"Sid and Her Majesty are having a domestic," she said plainly. "We're eavesdropping. Do join us, they've been going into ludicrously toe-curling detail."

Gold raised an eyebrow before cocking one ear up and listening.

"This is why you should never sleep with your colleagues," he warned the younger members of staff as Regina hurled a particularly cutting insult in the direction of Sid's bedroom ability and he responded in kind.

"What on earth is going on out here? Miss Tempest, I expected you back ten minutes ago… Ah." Fox had come out of his office in search of his secretary, caught the latest trade-off in the dispute upstairs and disappeared back from whence he came without another word.

"They've been at it half an hour," Dawn said giddily. "You've missed all the best bits. Marina was tempted to get them on tape as leverage for the next time that Mills throws a paddy with her."

Under the sound of the argument, footsteps could be heard creeping quietly down the stairs. Jefferson appeared at the top of the flight from the first floor down to reception. The poor man, a recently qualified junior residing on the top floor, looked rather shellshocked as he descended.

"You wouldn't believe the things I've been hearing up there," he murmured, his voice faint.

"Oh, we would," Marina replied cheerfully.

"My desk is directly above Sid's," Jefferson said mournfully. "I heard everything _before_ they started arguing."

At this point, a door opened on the floor above and Regina stormed down the stairs, looking far from her usual unruffled self and glaring at the gathered crowd.

"What are you staring at?" she snapped as she passed them, heading into her office and slamming the door with enough force to make all the ornaments on Kathryn's desk jump two inches to the left. The afternoon's entertainment obviously over, the solicitors and secretaries began to make their ways back to their respective desks; Kathryn subtly reminding Jefferson that he had no appointments that afternoon if he wanted to take himself over the way for a restorative cup of tea.

Gold went the stairs up to his office, giving Sid's a wide berth, and got the Andersons' file out ready for his meeting. It was not going to be the most pleasant of afternoons, but a case was a case, and the sooner it was sorted out, the better for all parties. He closed his eyes and remembered the way that Belle had fitted into his side so snugly. She deserved the full story, but he was terrified of scaring her off. At least he had the memories, if nothing else.

* * *

**To be continued. I know it seems that things are progressing slowly, but believe me, things will kick off next chapter... ;)  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: **Thank you, guest reviewers! Also a little note of warning, some mild language towards the end of the chapter. The most common swear word I use is 'bloody' and I don't generally warn for that, but I try to remember to do so if I'm putting anything stronger.

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Ten**

Despite the bright sunshine, it was a bitterly cold day and Gold had had to break out his prescription painkillers, especially in anticipation of the long drive. Grudgingly, he admitted that hospital visits were good for one thing if nothing else. It was the building itself that he hated more than the occupants, really. He owed his ability to walk to the surgeons who had realigned his bones after the accident, and being mobile was worth the hassle of explaining about the large amounts of titanium in his leg every time he went through a metal detector, but he'd spent enough hours in hospitals to last him a lifetime.

Gold was glad of the sun; the cold he could stand but the wet he did not like. Every single funeral that he had been to in his life thus far, it had rained, and Bae's had been no exception. It had made a rotten day even more miserable, and Gold had always hated visiting cemeteries in the rain.

The trip to see Bae every third of November was one that he made without fail, though, whatever the weather, and he was even more determined than usual this year having moved away from the area in summer. Gold parked outside the cemetery and sat staring at the gates for a while before picking up the flowers that had sat on the passenger seat all the way from Devon. Thirteen white lilies, one for each year of his young life. It was a tradition, and even after a decade, Gold was loath to break it. He got out of the car and tied his scarf a little tighter against the chill before walking through the gates. An elderly lady was sitting on a bench just inside, muffled up in several coats and scarves making her look twice her usual size. She had her eyes closed, but she opened them on hearing Gold's step on the gravel path.

"The third of November again," she said. "Time flies, Mr Gold."

"Indeed it does, Mrs Cope."

"First Saturday of the month," Mrs Cope said. "Time to change my Norman's flowers, but I'm not too good on my trotters these days, so our Morrie's doing it instead." The old woman smiled. "I think she's calling on someone else too, just to say hello for old times' sake."

Gold's insides twisted. Moraine Cope, Bae's first and only girlfriend.

"Well, I won't keep you," Morrie's grandmother said. She reached over and patted his hand on top of the cane. "Best wishes, and Merry Christmas since I won't see you again beforehand."

"The same to you, Mrs Cope."

Gold continued down the path, through the arch that separated the oldest graves at the front of the cemetery from the newest ones at the back. A young blonde woman was coming in the opposite direction.

"Mr Gold," she said quietly.

"Miss Cope."

"Actually, I'm a Mrs now." Gold glanced down at her fingers but she was wearing gloves. "Just this summer." She smiled weakly. "We knew you'd be coming today but Gran was certain our paths would cross. Fate, you know."

"Your grandmother is a wise woman." There was nothing more to be said between them; there never had been. To give thanks or apologies would just seem out of place and clichéd. Both understood the sentiments, they did not need to be voiced.

"Good morning, Moraine, and best wishes for the future."

"Thank you, Mr Gold. Good morning."

She passed him and Gold made his way down the gravel until he got to the headstone he sought. He'd walked this route so many times that he could probably do it blindfold. Ignoring his knee, he crouched down beside the stone and placed the lilies on the turf before running his fingers over the lettering.

_Baelfire Gold_

_18__th__ November 1988 – 3__rd__ November 2002_

_Always in our hearts_

"Hi, Bae. It's Dad." Best to begin in a time-honoured fashion. "I'm here, like I said. I know I'm over a hundred miles away now but I'd never forget." He paused. "I can't believe Morrie's married now. I mean, I knew she was growing up but I still can't believe it." Gold sighed. "I can't imagine you any older than thirteen. Certainly not twenty-three, with your own career, your own life, married with kids… There's a trainee at Guildhall who's only a day older than you. I keep an eye on her, can't help it. I don't think anyone's noticed though. We wouldn't want to ruin my reputation, now." He paused again. He never had a preconceived idea of what he'd say to Bae each time, just whatever came to him on the spot. "You know how you were forever badgering me to get a girlfriend? Well, better late than never. Her name's Belle, and I swear, you'd love her. She's bright and bold and beautiful, and I think that this is it. She's the one. I know, I know. Stop being such a coward and tell her before it's too late and someone younger and more attractive comes along. I will. I'll just procrastinate a bit more first."

His knee was beginning to feel like it could give out at any moment, so he had to break off and stand up to ease it.

"Gold."

He knew the voice without having to turn.

"Liz."

His ex-wife came up alongside him, both hands clutched around a baker's dozen of lilies.

"Great minds think alike, like always." Liz placed her bouquet next to his. "I knew you'd come, even from Devon. You wouldn't give up on the ten year mark."

Gold shook his head.

"No… I'm not sure about next year though. I'll have to see where life's taken me."

Liz smiled.

"I'm glad you've finally found someone," she said. "You deserve to. Don't throw it away, please. For your sake. I can't say that solitude doesn't suit you; you were always a good loner, but happiness suits you better."

Their divorce had been an amicable one for the most part, even when it came to the then-eight-year-old Bae. The only sticking point had come two years later when their son had decided he wanted to live with Gold on a permanent basis instead of their original joint custody arrangement. Liz had been heartbroken and relations had been cool for a long time, but she hadn't fought it. Bae had always been closer to his father than his mother; it was an unspoken fact between them.

"I'll leave, you'll want some time alone…" Gold began. Liz shook her head.

"It's all right. I don't like staying here too long. God, that's an awful thing for a mother to say. It's just that it reminds me of the funeral too much. Besides, you were always a lot better at talking to him than I was." She kissed her fingertips and pressed them to the stone, her little ritual just as much as he had his. "It's good to see you well," she said eventually.

"You too, Liz. Give my regards to everyone."

Liz nodded, lingering for a while before leaving. Gold didn't begrudge her it. They'd both coped in different ways at the time, and Liz had since remarried and had someone else to talk to about it all. Perhaps next year he would have Belle. Hopefully he would. He crouched down again.

"I'll always love you. Even if I'm not always here."

No more words were needed. Bae understood.

X

Belle thought nothing of it when she heard a car pull up outside her flat, but when the doorbell rang she was perplexed.

Emma was standing on the doorstep.

"Come on, I'll give you a lift to Granny and Ruby's," she said. Belle peered around the doorframe to see Emma's bright yellow Volkswagen parked in the road outside, Henry waving from the back.

Emma and Belle had been seconded into helping Granny and Ruby get their house ready for the party that evening, and Belle had spent the morning gathering her accumulated stationery and making the prophesied 'sorry you're leaving' banner. She grabbed her bits and bobs and shoved her boots on, hopping out of the door after Emma.

"Thanks for the lift. I could have just got the bus," she said, getting into the passenger seat. "You have to come past Station Road to get up here. Hi, Henry."

"Hi, Belle," Emma's son said before going back to his book.

"Yeah, I know, but I wanted to speak to you before we got there." Emma broke off to shake her fist at the driver who pulled out in front of her. "I've got a bit of a confession to make and I wanted to tell you before Ruby in case she tries to throttle me with a pair of tights."

"Ok…" Belle narrowed her eyes. "Am I allowed to be rather worried now?"

"There's nothing to be worried about," Emma said brightly before glancing in the rear-view mirror. "Henry, what have I told you about reading in the car? You'll get travel sick, young man!"

"Sorry, Mum."

Emma returned her attention to Belle.

"So what's this confession, then?"

"Well, you know how you and Ruby are trying to set me up with August?" Emma began.

"We, erm… Were we really that obvious?"

"You were fine. Ruby wasn't exactly subtle about it."

"I don't think that 'Ruby' and 'subtle' are words that will ever belong in the same sentence," said Belle.

"You're right." Emma continued. "Well, the thing is, I'm actually seeing someone else. I'm just worried about telling Ruby because I've been seeing him for nearly six months and I haven't told her."

"Six months?" Belle exclaimed. "How did you manage to keep him hidden for six months?"

"Great skill," Emma said with a grin. "Very great skill."

"I won't ask you to tell me about him yet, as you'll only have to repeat yourself to Ruby, but let it be known that I am extremely intrigued."

"He's coming tonight," Emma said, "so you'll all be able to meet him then. I thought it was the right time to come clean."

They reached Granny and Ruby's house and Emma sped into a parking space on the road just before someone coming in the opposite direction nabbed it. Belle smiled sweetly at the other driver as they all got out.

Henry rang the bell, and Granny's voice could be heard calling.

"Ruby, get the door! It'll be Belle or Emma and Henry!"

"Or all three," Ruby called back as she opened the door. Belle sighed on recognising that her friend was still in her pyjamas and had a toothbrush in one hand.

"Ruby, it's gone one in the afternoon," Emma said in despair.

"It's a day off," Ruby said by way of explanation, shutting the door behind them and rushing off back up the stairs to finish her ablutions. Belle went through into the kitchen, where Granny was busy with a piping bag, her tongue stuck between her teeth in concentration.

"There," she said after ignoring her visitors for a few moments. "Done. What do you think?"

"I think you are a sugarcraft genius, Mrs Lucas," Emma said.

"It's awesome!" Henry exclaimed.

The cake was square and covered with white icing, with 'Good Luck, Astrid and Leroy' written on it in blue. A sugar replica of Leroy's beloved red Landrover was stuck on top, an icing Astrid and Leroy waving from it.

"The only reason I agreed to Ruby's idea was the opportunity to make it," Granny admitted. "I've been itching to do a good cake for weeks now."

The last cake Granny had made had been for Henry's birthday, in the shape of a ten. She'd originally just been going to make a sugarcraft tiger to put on the top, but she'd got 'a little bit carried away' and created an entire menagerie, including a shark swimming in the middle of the zero. It had taken the best part of a week for her to design and make, but on the upside, Henry's schoolfriends were now clamouring with their mothers to get Mrs Lucas to make them novelty cakes for their own birthdays, so hopefully paid commissions would be coming in soon.

Emma and Belle were soon clearing up the living room whilst Henry helped Granny with the washing up. Ruby came in, fully-dressed this time, dragging the vacuum cleaner along with her. She had a love-hate relationship with the machine – it loved her to the extent of tangling itself around her legs with every step and making her fall flat on her face, and Ruby hated it for it. Halfway round the room she gave up and kicked it.

"Calm down, Ruby," Emma said. "I've got some news that'll cheer you up. It's about my love life."

Belle ducked down behind the sofa to hide her imminent laughter, listening for Ruby's reaction as Emma told her the same story that she'd relayed in the car. Her friend didn't disappoint.

"Nearly six months!" she exploded. "You kept this mystery man from us for nearly six months! Right, that's it. You've got to tell us everything now to make up for it."

"Well," Emma said, continuing to push the furniture around to create more space for guests in the room, "his name is Graham, and he's a policeman."

"Trust Emma to go for a man in uniform," Ruby said with a grin.

"What does Henry make of him?" Belle asked.

"Oh, Henry set the whole thing up, the little devil," Emma said. "Graham had come to do a talk at the school and Henry collared him afterwards. When I went in to collect him, he dragged the poor man over to meet me. We got chatting for a bit, and on the way home, Henry pipes up with 'so when are you and PC Graham going on a date then?' Oh, believe me, Henry gave his approval long ago."

"Well, if Henry approves, then I see no reason why we shouldn't." Ruby sighed. "I had such high hopes as well. You and August seemed to be getting on so brilliantly."

Emma laughed.

"Shared experience," she said. "It turns out we both spent time in the same foster home when we were kids."

"Well, that's all right then. Oh, Emma!" Ruby threw her arms around her friend. "I'm so happy for you! But I'm still mad that it took you so long to tell us. Six months!"

"Well, we wanted to make sure it was working, for everyone's sakes," Emma said.

"All those blind dates I set you up on that you refused," Ruby said mournfully. "At least I know why you said no now. But six months! My Uncle Stanley and Auntie Linda met, married and divorced in less than six months!"

"Are you girls tidying or yakking?" called Granny. She came into the living room, hands on hips. "You were the one who wanted this shindig, Ruby Lucas, so you can make sure your house is ready for it." She grinned. "Henry and I have finished our jobs and we're on a tea break."

"An excellent idea," Ruby said. "Tea break!"

Belle and Emma rolled their eyes and followed Ruby into the kitchen.

It took most of the afternoon to get ready for the party, with Emma and Henry being sent on numerous errands in the yellow Beetle to pick up things that Granny and Ruby had forgotten, and the three younger women taking over the top half of the house in an effort to get themselves ready, with Granny and Henry looking on in despair at the carnage. As half-past seven rolled around, Belle and Ruby could be found outside number ninety-three with a stepladder, trying and hopelessly failing to get the banner straight.

"Oh, it'll do," Ruby said, leaving the banner at a rakish angle and tripping down the ladder, nearly toppling into a young man who had paused in the garden path to watch their antics. "Oops, sorry."

"No problem. Erm, I'm looking for Emma," the man began. "I'm Graham."

Ruby's eyes lit up.

"Graham! We've heard so much about you this afternoon, do come inside." She practically dragged him up the path towards the house, where they were met halfway by Emma, who skidded out of the house with no shoes on and her mascara wand in her hand, one eye made up and the other bare.

"Hi, Graham, sorry, I got held up. I had planned to be waiting outside to save you being accosted like this." She hopped from foot to foot on the cold paving slabs. "Let's go in, I'm freezing."

Graham laughed and leaned in to kiss her before letting Emma resume the dragging.

"Come on, Belle!" Ruby said, waving her friend inside after them. "We need to be properly introduced!"

Belle rolled her eyes and left the banner; half-cocked would have to suffice.

It was clear that Graham and Emma were very much in love, and it was only Henry's presence that prevented their current honeymoon period from being overly apparent. Belle thought back to the conversation she'd had with Ruby the previous afternoon.

"If Gold arrives, this will be your third date," Ruby had said confidently. "So wear nice knickers."

When Belle had asked why, Ruby had rolled her eyes.

"Because after three dates, you can cross the bedroom threshold," she'd explained.

"I thought it was three months," Belle had said.

"Well, I don't really know to be honest," Ruby'd admitted. "Most of the men I go out with are lucky to get three dates, let alone three months."

When Belle had pointed out that Saturday would technically be Archie's fourth date with Ruby, her friend had gone a delicate shade of pink and said that yes, well, Archie was a special case and she was taking everyone's advice and going slowly with him.

Belle had decided to follow her own instinct and wait longer, but she'd put nice knickers on nonetheless.

The evening drew on with more and more people began arriving – Astrid and Leroy, some of Leroy's colleagues, some of Astrid's knitting group, Mary Margaret and David, Ashley and Sean – and Belle found herself jumping up every time the doorbell rang, her heart leaping to her mouth. When she'd started for the fourth time and the door had revealed Archie and a fully-recovered Pongo, she came to the conclusion that she was being silly and she'd leave it next time. Ruby came careering out into the hallway to fawn over the dog and its owner, and Belle found herself squashed back into the living room next to David.

"I forgot to ask earlier," he began. "Did you like the flowers?"

"Pardon?"

David's expression of perplexity matched her own.

"The flowers… Gold was in the shop this morning, bought a big bunch of white flowers. I'd assumed they were for you. He came out as I went in. Mary'd served him."

Belle shook her head.

"I haven't seen him today; he said he had to drive to Winchester which was why he'd be late tonight."

David shrugged.

"Well, it was pretty early, she'd only just opened."

Belle's mind went into freefall. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. Maybe he wouldn't have had time to get them later and bring them to her.

The doorbell rang, and Ruby, who had come into the living room with Archie to catch the tale end of the conversation, turned on her heel and went straight back out again.

"That might be him," she called. "Here's hoping he's holding a bunch of carnations."

Belle followed her friend, hearing her open the door and give an exclamation of surprise.

"Oh. You weren't who I was expecting. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for Belle. Her landlord at St Anne's said she'd be here."

Belle froze, feeling all the colour drain out of her face, ice pouring through her veins.

"Sure… Belle! There's someone here to see you! Sorry, what was your name?"

"Gary. Gary Hunter."

"Ah."

Ruby's tone of voice had changed on a knife-edge from happy-go-lucky party girl to wolf ready to pounce on anyone who threatened her best friend's happiness. Belle forced her legs to move and she walked to the front door as if she was going to the scaffold.

Gary didn't look a day different to when she had last seen him, eighteen months ago when she'd told him she was moving south.

"Hi, Belle," he said.

"Hello, Gary." Her tone was cold and clipped, trying not to betray the shivering she felt in her knees despite the heat of so many people in the house.

"I need to talk to you," her husband began.

"Now?" Belle hissed. "At a party in someone else's house, someone you don't even know?"

"Ok, not now, but soon. Tomorrow?"

Well, there was no point in her going back to Solihull if Gary was here. She nodded curtly.

"I really think it's time we made another go of it, Belle," he said. "Honestly. I've tried to move on, but I can't stop thinking about you."

Belle shook her head.

"It's over, Gary. It's always been over. It was over before we even got married."

"But now you've had breathing space, time to think, we both have."

"This isn't 'breathing space', Gary, this is a fresh start. Now please leave before the mood is soured. This isn't my party. I'll see you tomorrow. You evidently know where I live." It was taking all her courage to keep her voice level and disinterested, and her arms folded.

Gary nodded.

"Do you honestly think it can't work?" he said. "Really?"

"It can't work, Gary. I have a new life here. I'm seeing someone new."

Ruby was trying to push the door closed on him, but Gary stuck his foot in it, his eyes narrowed.

"Does he know?" he asked.

Belle bit her lip.

"Of course he does," she said quickly. Too quickly. Gary shook his head.

"That's a lie, Belle. I could always tell when you were lying. No wonder you want to get rid of me so quickly. Is he here? I should tell him."

"He is here, and you should tell him what?"

Belle had never been so relieved nor so terrified to hear a Glaswegian accent in her life. Gary turned, startled, and his movement revealed Gold standing on the path behind him, his face perfectly impassive.

A small, detached part of her acknowledged that there were no flowers in sight.

Belle closed her eyes and grabbed the door for support in case her knees gave out completely as they were threatening to do. Ruby put a protective hand over her shoulder. Of all the possible worst-case scenarios that she had imagined when revealing her legally wed status to Gold, that he and Gary should actually meet had never crossed her mind.

On hearing no words passed between them, she risked opening her eyes again. Gary had taken a step back and was looking from Belle to Gold and back again.

"Seriously?" he muttered. "Seriously? Jesus, Belle, I never had you down as the sugardaddy type."

Belle grimaced and she saw Gold's jaw clench. He had been worried about the age difference between them from the offset, and now Gary had rammed the point home in his spite and jealousy. It had always been the way, since she was fifteen years old and their status became officially boyfriend and girlfriend. Intentionally or not, he had never let her move on with her life, and he wasn't going to let her do it now, either.

"Is this gentleman bothering you, Belle?" Gold asked through gritted teeth. Gary snorted.

"This gentleman is Belle's husband, mate."

"I see." Gold turned to Belle. "Is this true?"

Belle closed her eyes against the tears that were forming there.

"Belle, please." Gold's voice was gentle now, pleading almost. "Is it true?"

She nodded.

"I'm sorry," she began, but her voice was choked around the knot of fear and shame in her throat, and she couldn't go on.

"Then I should leave you to sort out your difficulties in peace. It is not my place to interfere in marriages unless I'm being paid to."

Belle wanted nothing more than for Gold to interfere, to defend her honour and take a swing at Gary, but he couldn't. After all, he'd only known her for three weeks. They knew practically nothing about each other when compared to what a husband and wife would know.

Whilst she was on the subject, the small, detached part of her wondered where her flowers were.

She opened her eyes and wiped them on the back of her hand. Gold was walking back down the path, and it might have been her imagination but his limp looked heavier than she'd ever seen it. It made the picture of dejection even more heartbreaking. Belle shook off Ruby's hand, pushed past Gary without a second thought and raced to catch up with Gold, coming round to block his path as he stepped out of the garden onto the pavement.

"Wait!" she cried, well aware that tears were now streaming down her face. "Please wait, I'm so sorry, I should have told you before, but I swear, I haven't seen him since I moved here, I…"

"Belle, please." Gold's voice was quavering just as much as her own. "I shouldn't have come tonight. I've had an incredibly draining day, both physically and emotionally." He paused. "I believe you, my dear, but I am in no state to try and deal with this rationally at the moment."

Belle saw the pain in his eyes, mingled with something that she identified, with a jolt, as guilt.

"I'm sorry, Belle. But please not now."

He stepped past her and made to get into his car.

"Bastard!"

Ruby's scream echoed through the moonless night and Belle heard her high heels clattering over the pavement.

"You bastard! How can you leave her like this? You're no angel, buying flowers for a woman you aren't dating!"

"Ruby!" Belle sobbed. "Ruby, please, stop it, you're making it worse."

Gold had gone incredibly tense, paused half-in and half-out of his car.

"They weren't for a woman," he growled, and slammed the driver's door shut.

With impeccable timing, the rain began to fall as he drove away.

* * *

**To be continued**


	11. Chapter 11

**Note:** Thank you, guest reviewers! Well, the general reaction to the last chapter did not disappoint, so here, without further ado, I present you with the next instalment. Note of warning – mild language throughout. Everyone's emotions are still running a little high, after all…

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Eleven**

"Come on, darling. Come on, up off the ground. You'll freeze down there."

Belle was vaguely aware of warm hands on her shoulders trying to pull her up and a cease to the raindrops pattering onto her head. She hadn't even realised that her legs had given out and she'd fallen onto her knees on the pavement, her hands still pressed over her face to muffle her sobs.

"Please, Belle, get up and come inside. Come on, love."

Belle moved her hands to see Granny and Mary Margaret hovering over her, Granny rubbing her shivering shoulders and Mary holding a big umbrella over them all. Further down the street, Belle could see Ruby standing in the road, still screaming after the long-vanished tail-lights of Gold's car.

"Ruby!" her grandmother called sharply. "Ruby, you're making a scene and it is not helping!" Her voice became soft and cajoling again as she returned her attention to Belle. "Come on, darling, please get up."

Shakily, Belle got to her feet, Granny still keeping a firm hold on her shoulders. Mary Margaret pushed the stray tendrils of damp hair out of her face, and Ruby came out of the road and followed them up the path; there wasn't enough room under the umbrella for all of them.

"Belle," Gary began as they reached the front door.

"Get out," Ruby snarled. "You've caused more than enough damage for one evening. Get out, or I'll deck you one."

"Get off my property or I shall call the police and have you forcibly removed," Granny said coolly. "In fact, I can do it right now. Graham!"

"Hello?" Graham appeared in the doorway.

"Please escort this… trespasser out of the way," Granny said.

"Of course, Ma'am." Graham got his warrant card out of his pocket and showed it to Gary. "I suggest you comply with the lady's wishes."

Gary made no further comment and left the doorway. Belle heard his footsteps getting fainter down the path before Ruby closed the door against them.

Everyone in the house knew what had happened – Belle wouldn't be surprised if everyone in the street knew after Ruby's efforts – but they all kept a respectful distance, talking in muted tones in the kitchen and living room and leaving the damsel in distress in the exceedingly capable hands of the loyal Lucas dragons that were Granny and Ruby. Only Emma was waiting in the hall to see her, having come out with Graham, and she gave her friend a hug, letting Mary Margaret manhandle the umbrella through to the kitchen.

"You keep Belle company; Emma and I'll keep things smooth down here," Granny said to Ruby.

"Of course," Ruby replied, calm and efficient in a crisis once more, her earlier outburst all but forgotten. "Come on, love, let's get out of the circus."

She steered Belle up the stairs towards her bedroom, where just a few hours ago they had been getting ready for the party, chatting and laughing without a care in the world.

"I feel so bad for Astrid and Leroy," Belle mumbled, because she was finding it far easier to focus on worrying about other people's problems than to try and work out how the hell she was going to sort out her own. "I've just ruined their party."

"They'll understand," Ruby reassured her. "Leroy's well on his way to being unable to remember any of tonight anyway."

"I wish I was."

"No, you don't," her friend said firmly. "A sore head in the morning won't make things better now, will it?"

Belle shook her head and let Ruby steer her into her room, the same room she had occupied since she had first come to live with Granny as a child. It still held memories of her younger years; Ruby had never made a clean transition from child's room to teenager's room to adult's room. She switched on the pink fairy lights, still left over from when she was a six-year-old afraid of the dark, despite the fact that they clashed horribly with the burgundy bed linen and curtains.

Normally Belle loved Ruby's room, nosing about and piecing together her life from the nicknacks left for sentimentality's sake, but now she saw none of it, burying her face in the pillows as she relived the scene on the pavement in her head.

"That's it, let it all out." Ruby sat down on the bed beside her, stroking her shoulder and murmuring words of comfort. "You've had a rotten time so you just cry it all out."

Belle did so, but she was crying more in anticipation of the events that were to come than those that had passed. In the cold light of day, when they were all sober and thinking straight, everything would have to come out again, and not be hidden away until something was sorted out. The cold, hard truth.

And the flowers, the small, detached part of her persisted. The flowers that weren't for her and weren't for another woman.

"I don't know what's worse," Belle said. "The fact Gary turned up on the doorstep unannounced hoping for a reconciliation and promptly insulted you and Gold, or the fact Gold just left you to deal with it all."

"He'd just found out his girlfriend's married," Belle murmured. "The only thing I'd want to do would be hightail it out of there and leave them to have a domestic on their own terms." She shifted a little and looked up a Ruby, playing with the tassels on the pillow case. "You can go back to the party if you want to."

Ruby shook her head with a small smile.

"Don't be daft. I'm not leaving you alone in your misery."

Belle nodded.

"Thank you."

There was a long pause.

"Oh, Ruby, it's all my fault. I should have told him from the beginning. It's just, when we met, he automatically assumed I was a Miss and I didn't correct him."

"I suppose that the fact we all call you Miss doesn't help either." Ruby patted Belle's hand. "I'm sure that he'll understand when you explain it to him. And if he doesn't, well, I'll carry through on the threats I was making outside." She paused. "I'm sorry I yelled at him. It was just… The way he just left you to deal with Gary when you were obviously so upset about the whole thing."

"What else could he do? He was just as upset as I was. You and Granny and Graham managed to deal with Gary quite effectively though." Belle sighed. "I'm more pissed off with myself, for allowing this to happen."

"It's not your fault. You had no idea that Gary would gatecrash a party to try and get back together with you. He's either an idiot or a psychopath."

"And I still need to talk to him like a responsible adult without beginning that I hate him and he's ruined my life for the last bloody time."

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door.

"Belle, it's Emma. I just wanted to know if you wanted me to give you a lift home."

Belle thought about it. At home she could wallow in her misery without fear of disrupting the party or preventing Ruby from enjoying herself. On the other hand, at home she'd be alone, without anyone to reassure her that it would all be all right in the end and threaten to tear Gary limb from limb for her.

Ruby made the decision for her.

"Don't feel you ought to go," she said. "If you don't want to be on your own then you can stay here as long as you like, if you're ok bunking with me."

Emma peered round the door and Belle shook her head.

"No, but thank you for the offer."

"That's ok." She paused. "It'll be easier in the morning, when everyone's cooled off. I could get Graham to arrest Gary for something if you like."

Belle managed a weak smile.

"I'm tempted, but that might make matters worse."

"Hang in there, Belle."

Emma disappeared back round the door.

"She's right, chickie," Ruby said. "It'll be easier tomorrow. Phone him in the morning and make a date to explain, and if he can't accept it, then…" She tailed off. "This isn't what you need to hear."

"It's ok. I understand."

They fell into silence, but it was nice to know that Ruby was there if she wanted to talk. Belle was on her third mental replay of the evening, wishing there was something that she could have done to make it better, but she knew that there wasn't.

And for some stupid reason, the flowers were still bothering her, inane as they were in the grander scheme of things.

"Ruby… Could you ask Mary Margaret if she's got a minute, please?"

"Sure, give me a sec."

She left the room, and returned with Mary Margaret a few moments later.

"Hey. Ruby said you wanted a word."

Belle nodded.

"The flowers that Gold bought this morning. They weren't for me and they weren't for another woman. What were they? What type?"

Mary Margaret was a florist, and Belle was the daughter of one. They both knew the language of flowers and their hidden meanings. Perhaps she could shed some light on the conundrum that way.

"Oh, Belle, I did so hope that they weren't for you. They were lilies. Thirteen white lilies."

Lilies. The flowers of choice for funerals and grave arrangements. The flowers most commonly associated with death.

"Oh, crumbs," she moaned.

"What's up?" Ruby asked. Mary Margaret explained the significance. "Oh, bugger."

Belle sighed, and the small, detached part of her finally fell silent. The mystery was just about solved but now she felt even worse.

"Bugger," Ruby repeated after Mary Margaret had added more reassurances to hers and Emma's and left the room. "I really shouldn't have yelled at him."

Belle said nothing. Presently there was another knock at the door. Granny popped her head round.

"We're doing the cake now if you wanted to come down and see it."

Ruby looked at Belle and cocked her head on one side to question. Belle nodded and got off the bed. This was Astrid and Leroy's occasion after all, and she'd wanted to give them a proper send-off, however miserable she was now feeling.

No-one commented on her red eyes and nose as she came downstairs and Astrid and Leroy cut their going-away cake to great applause. She stayed down to talk to Astrid for a little while and wish her well in her new home in Kent, but when Leroy interrupted them to grab Astrid for a drunken kiss, something inside her twisted and Belle found herself making her excuses and retreating back to Ruby's room.

She lay back on the bed, staring at the fairy lights. It was time to be proactive. She had lived with the shadow of Gary hanging over her for years, but no longer. This was her chance, and she wasn't going to let it slip through her fingers. But she was going to do it on her own terms. If she could heal the rift between her and Gold, then hopefully she could rely on him to help her through whatever happened with Gary. She didn't have a plan for dealing with either of them, but she had a tiny ray of hope.

_I believe you, my dear, but I am in no state to try and deal with this rationally at the moment._

"Belle?"

Ruby was peering round the door. Belle looked up at her, blinking away the spots in front of her eyes that staring at the lights had caused.

"People are starting to leave now, and you're being offered lifts again." She paused. "My previous words still stand."

Belle shook her head. She was feeling marginally better, but she still did not want to go home alone to the prospect of confronting Gary first thing in the morning.

"Can I stay with you, just overnight?"

"Of course, as long as you don't mind borrowing my pyjamas."

Belle nodded.

"Ok. We'll make a battleplan for you tomorrow. I swear, we'll get you through this. I didn't exactly help earlier but I hope I can make up for it."

"Thanks, Ruby."

She'd get through it. All she needed was a plan.

X

Gold pressed a damp flannel over his face with a groan, half-tempted to submerge fully beneath the surface of his bathwater and stay there. Whether Ruby's words had had any substance behind them or not, he certainly felt like a complete bastard at that point in time. From their four sentences of conversation, Gold had surmised that Belle's all-but-ex-husband was a git of the highest order and he'd left her alone to deal with him. He hadn't had much choice really; it wasn't his fight to get into and at the time he'd still been reeling slightly from the revelation. It was his own fault, really. He shouldn't have gone, not after the day he'd had. Having spent God-only-knew how long in tailbacks along the A303 on the way home, Gold would have been perfectly happy just to go straight home for a hot bath to ease his leg and a stiff drink to make him feel better. But the prospect of seeing Belle and having her brighten his day like she always managed to do had proved too tempting, and look where it had left him.

He removed the flannel and drained the tumbler of Scotch on the windowsill next to him. He wasn't in as much physical pain but the alcohol wasn't doing all that much to help his mental turmoil. He couldn't really blame her for not telling him. They'd only been out twice, and he wouldn't have mentioned Liz yet had he not brought her up by accident. No, the only thing that really stung was Ruby's accusation that Bae's flowers had been for another woman. Gold should have known that word would get around, since it was fast becoming obvious that his and Belle's relationship was no secret amongst the small community in the precinct.

Presently the phone rang, its shrill bark dragging him back to reality. Gold sighed and ignored it. As usual, he'd forgotten to bring the cordless into the bathroom with him and everything else aside, getting out of the tub was one thing he could not and would not do with any degree of haste. If it was important, whoever it was would ring back.

But what if it was Belle?

By the time he'd got himself out of the bath, fished his towel off the radiator and limped through to the bedroom, the caller had rung off. He dialled 1471 for the number. It was a local one, but not one he recognised immediately and not Belle's because there weren't any fives in it. He hadn't memorised her number but he remembered the very peculiar way in which she'd written her fives.

Probably a wrong number, but he brought the phone back into the bathroom with him just in case, putting it on the windowsill next to the whiskey. It didn't ring again.

Oh, to hell with it, he thought, once his bath had started to go cold and he'd given it up as a bad job. He hit redial, well aware that it was half-eleven at night.

"Hello, Lucas residence," said the voice on the other end of the phone. It was Ruby, and Gold almost hung up in alarm. "Hello?"

"Hello… I missed a call from this number about half an hour ago."

"You did? I wasn't aware we'd rung anyone up… Hang on, is that Mr Gold?"

"Yes, it is," Gold replied, but he was cut off by a scramble on the other end.

"Gold?"

It was Belle's voice, soft and tentative.

"Hello, Belle. Did you ring earlier? I didn't get to the phone in time."

There was a pause.

"Yes," She sounded guilty. "It was a spur of the moment thing; I was going to wait till tomorrow, but I didn't, and then I chickened out and hung up."

"Give it half an hour and it will be tomorrow," Gold pointed out.

She managed a weak laugh.

"I'm sorry I left you in the lurch," he continued.

"It's all right. I'm sorry about Gary." There was a murmur of another voice in the room on the other end. "Ruby says she's sorry for calling you a bastard over the flowers. Have you… Were you at a funeral today?"

"No. Visiting a grave. It's a long story." Gold paused, thinking of the bottle of Scotch still on the bathroom windowsill and how much of it he'd drunk since taking it in there. "I've had a bit to drink," he admitted.

"I'm not exactly stone cold either. I think we'd be better off telling our long stories face to face anyway. That was why I rang, really. To set a date of sorts. Well. I nearly rang."

"Tomorrow afternoon?" Gold suggested. Maybe that was too soon, but as with Dawn's problems, better sooner rather than later.

"Hmmm." He could hear her anguish over the phone line.

"What's up?"

"Before everything turned nasty I'd told Gary to piss off and come back tomorrow. I don't know whether he'll take me up on it after everything that's happened and I don't want him getting in the way again. After close of business on Monday? Cathedral green?"

"Under St Stephen's Arch if it's raining. Sounds fine to me."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Ok. I'll see you then."

"Till then, Belle. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Gold. Thank you."

Gold smiled. All was not lost.

* * *

**To be continued. The next update will likely be slightly delayed due to more important things (like life) getting in the way of writing time, so I thought I'd leave you all on a positive note. It looks like everything's back on an even keel, doesn't it? *Evil cackle.***


	12. Chapter 12

**Note:** Thanks for your patience folks, and here is the later than usual update. Once again, I go into British legal matters a little here, this time divorce. **The American process may well be different.**

But enough of that. Onwards. In which Gary gets his comeuppance. I know you've all been waiting for it, so I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Twelve**

Belle was feeling remarkably all right considering everything that had happened the previous evening. She wouldn't be able to feel any better than 'all right' until she'd seen Gold on Monday evening, and she certainly wasn't going to have a good day today whilst waiting for Gary to possibly call. But she was feeling pretty hopeful that everything could be sorted out. Gold understood; they'd made a date to talk about it and all was going to be well. She hadn't really thought about the possible magnitude of what she'd been doing when she'd sneaked off with Ruby's home phone at eleven o'clock at night once the majority of the guests had gone home, and it was only once she'd put the number in that she'd realised what a terrible mistake drunk-dialling was and had hung up in a hurry. She had only intended to make a date to discuss things, but even that had a propensity to go wrong.

She certainly hadn't expected Gold to ring her back half an hour later, evidently as tipsy as she was, and she was extremely relieved that everything had turned out for the best.

Belle half-expected Gary to be waiting on her doorstep when she stepped out of Granny's battered little Ford Fiesta (lovingly nicknamed Lola) but she couldn't say that she was sorry he wasn't.

"Let me know if you need any moral support," Ruby said, twisting round in the front passenger seat and reaching over to pat Belle's arm as she got out. "We aren't doing much except cleaning up today, so I'll get my personal chauffeuse to run me over."

"Hmm," said Granny, unconvinced. "We'll see about that."

Belle waved them off, Ruby still pleading her case, and let herself into the hallway. She was just about to let herself into her flat proper when there was a clatter of feet down the stairs from the first floor, where her landlord resided.

"Oh, Belle, I'm so sorry, someone turned up last night looking for you, said it was important, so I told him you were at Ruby's; it wasn't until afterwards I realised it must have been your husband. I mean, he said he'd come from your neck of the woods up north and I thought there might be a family crisis or something. Oh dear, are you all right?"

The poor woman was so worried that Belle had to smile.

"I'm all right, thank you."

"Because I mean, you never know, do you, when marriages break up, what caused them…"

Belle could see what the older woman was driving at but didn't actually want to mention.

"Mrs Ginger, it's all right. I'm not on the run from an abusive partner. I moved away from an idiotic one, yes, but I'm not in hiding."

"Oh, thank goodness, I was so worried that I'd caused something terrible to happen. I mean… Oh, never mind, you're safe and that's all that matters."

"Yes, Mrs Ginger. Thank you for your concern."

Belle wasn't particularly happy with her landlord's blithely telling Gary her whereabouts, but this scare appeared to have taught her a lesson and she'd hopefully stick to 'she's not in, come back tomorrow' in future. She let herself into her flat as Mrs Ginger went back upstairs, still berating herself in muted tones, and she threw herself down on the sofa. She was still wearing yesterday's clothes and really ought to do something about getting herself more presentable for her inevitable visitors, but she was more concerned with getting herself a battle plan at that moment in time.

Between ringing Gold and him ringing back the previous evening, Belle had phoned her dad for his perspective on the whole thing, figuring that it wouldn't be quite such a problem if she burst into tears and incoherency whilst talking to him as it would anyone else. Moe, doting father that he was, told her to sit tight and he'd drive down in the morning, to be on hand 'to clout Gary if necessary', if nothing else. Belle was extremely grateful. Whilst Ruby had loyally offered her moral support, she had never really dealt with Gary before; she knew Belle's story but hadn't been there to witness its playing out. Moe had, and was far better placed to intercede. Plus, Ruby had a temper second to none when riled, as evidenced in the road last night. She could easily end up making an already tense situation even more fraught.

Belle stared at the ceiling, kicking her heels against the arm of the sofa. The main thing was to stay calm and act like the responsible adult that she was, even if it got to the stage where she had to drum it into her head like a mantra. She could not let herself sink to Gary's level. She would deal with this situation calmly and coolly , but she would not let it lie without a solution.

Moe arrived on the stroke of eleven o'clock; Belle heard him manoeuvring his van into a parking space only just big enough for it on the road outside the house. She opened the door to greet him, surprised when two people got out of the vehicle.

"How are you, Bells?" Moe wrapped his daughter in a bear hug. "Christ. When I said Gary was looking to get back together with you I had no idea that he was _that_ adamant about it."

"Neither did I. Well, he certainly screwed up his chances of a reconciliation last night, not that it was ever on the cards to start with." Moe released her and Belle looked over his shoulder at his passenger, her brow furrowing.

"Mr Spencer? I thought you'd retired."

"Oh, I have, years ago. But once a lawyer, always a lawyer, and when Maurice called me for my advice this morning, I couldn't say no. Besides, it's a nice chance to visit the West Country."

Mr Spencer was the solicitor who had first sorted out the legalities when Belle and Moe had moved from Australia. Although Belle herself had never had much to do with him, Moe was eternally grateful for his help and had kept in intermittent contact with him.

"Come in," Belle said quickly, "out of the cold." She ushered the two men into the living room and made some tea, pulling the rarely-used coffee table out of one corner of the room and wishing she had a tablecloth or something to make it slightly more upmarket.

"As far as I can see, Mrs Hunter, or do you prefer Ms French?" Mr Spencer began.

"Just Belle is fine."

"Well, Belle, as far as I can surmise from your father's summary of the situation on the motorway this morning, a divorce between yourself and Mr Hunter shouldn't prove too problematic at all. You have no children, so custody and maintenance aren't an issue. You have no shared property or funds that must be split. You've been living independently for two years, neither financially supporting the other. As far as I can see all you need to do is file a petition and get the ball rolling. Legally, there are no difficulties that would prevent the process going ahead at full speed. Financial issues are usually the main concern."

"Oh." Belle was taken aback by the simplicity of it all. She might have done something about getting divorced earlier if she'd realised. Mr Spencer smiled sympathetically.

"In your case, it's only the human element that turns things on their head, I'm afraid," he said, his voice apologetic. "An awful lot depends on Mr Hunter's attitude."

Gary, the sticking point. If he was belligerent enough, he could hold things up considerably.

"I brought you a pamphlet," Mr Spencer said hopefully. "It should explain the process a little more. Not that a pamphlet is much consolation, really. If you do work things out today, I'd be more than happy to discuss things with you and drop into Randal Spencer Smythe tomorrow and get one of my former colleagues on the case for you. Unless you'd prefer to handle it yourself from down here? I know a couple of firms in the area. Guildhall and Blackwell."

Belle hid a smile.

"No, thank you, I think it would be better for you to take charge, Mr Spencer."

"Of course." He paused. "Was that the letterbox? On a Sunday?"

Belle duly went out into the hall to check. A single folded sheet had been pushed through, and Belle recognised her name on the front in scruffy hand.

_Belle_. She opened it up. _Belle, I'm really sorry for last night and I'm going home now, call me and maybe we can talk about it. Gary._

Belle felt her blood begin to boil, rage building up at the back of her throat so that she could almost taste it, hot and bitter. He had ruined her evening, nearly ruined her relationship and just fallen short of ruining her life, and he didn't even have the courtesy or courage to apologise in person.

"Bells? What's up?" Moe had poked his head round her door. Belle thrust the note at him and raced out of the front door down the street. Gary was almost at the corner.

"Gary! Gary!"

He stopped and turned.

"I got your note," Belle continued, forcing herself to remain composed and not lose it. She had to keep the upper hand, the moral high ground. She simply had to. "And I thought that since we're both here and we've nothing better to do, we may as well talk about this now. Like mature adults." She gestured up the street towards her open front door, gritting her teeth. "Please, come in for a cup of tea."

_And be very grateful that I haven't laced it with arsenic, you wretch_, she added mentally, with some degree of vitriol.

"Belle, I really don't… I mean, your dad's there…" Gary began, but Belle held up a hand to stop him.

"You've got some nerve, Gary," she said, her brain pleading with her not to lose it and shout. "You turn up unannounced and uninvited. You proceed to ask for a reconciliation, threaten me and insult me, all practically in the same breath. And on top of all that, you don't even have the decency to give me an apology for all of the above in person. I am asking you nicely. Please come in so that we can talk about this without making another spectacle. Because there is no 'maybe' about it. This needs to be discussed."

There was a long pause.

"Ok."

Belle followed him up the street, congratulating herself on her handling of the situation thus far. Moe met them at the door, his face a paragon of the expression 'unimpressed'.

"Mr French," Gary said. Moe simply stared him down.

"You know where I am if you want me, Belle," he said grimly, going back into the living room as Belle indicated for Gary to go through to the kitchen. She folded her arms.

"I'm sorry I called you a gold-digger."

"You didn't actually call me a gold-digger. You called my boyfriend a sugardaddy and thereby implied I was a gold-digger, in doing so insulting the both of us."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I was just surprised."

"Apology accepted."

"But you've got to admit, it is a bit weird from where I'm standing… How old is he anyway?"

"God, that's the most pathetic excuse I've ever heard," Belle snapped. Oops. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. "You really aren't getting off to a good start with this reconciliation that you are so worryingly desperate for." She paused, took a deep breath and continued calmly. "Gary, what did you expect to happen when you came down here? Did you honestly expect me to just jump back into your arms as if we'd never been apart for two years and never had twelve months of what could barely be described as marriage?"

"Erm, well, I can't say I had a plan, as such."

_Well, that much is obvious_, snarled her brain. She closed her eyes. Get answers, get excuses, get reasons. Don't get mad.

"Gary, you turned up on my doorstep – hell, it wasn't even my doorstep – without so much as a pre-emptive phone call. Would ringing me up really have been so much trouble? Just to say 'I'm coming to Devon to talk about this'? Why this sudden urge to reconcile anyway after eighteen months?"

Belle opened her eyes. She was expecting an answer along the lines of 'I didn't have your phone number', which would have been a perfectly and annoyingly reasonable explanation.

"I thought you'd be more likely to say yes if I just turned up."

Belle just stared at him in utter disbelief.

"Do you really think you're that irresistible?" she said, too angry to shout. She could barely speak for the rage flowing through her veins and knotting up her throat. "Do you honestly think I would come back to you in a fingersnap after over a year of building a new life for myself? Just because you were here? Did it never occur to you that I might just slam the door in your face and tell you never to darken my door again?" She paused. "No, of course not. Because you'd have come to your senses and done this differently if it did."

"Ok, so I went about it the wrong way, but…"

"But nothing. Telling a woman you can't stop thinking about her and then insulting her is not the right way to win her back. Full stop."

"I said I was sorry!"

"You shouldn't have said it all, sorry or not! What happened to 'if you truly love someone, you'll let them go'? You should have said 'I'm glad you've moved on and you're happy now', because up until you showed up, I was a damn sight happier than I'd been for a long time!"

She'd raised her voice by this point, her calm façade slipping again. Belle took another couple of deep breaths.

"I don't want to let you go," Gary said. "I want you to come back with me."

"But _why_, Gary? That's what I don't understand. You say you can't stop thinking about me, but is that really the whole reason?"

"Because…" Gary was floundering, Belle could see it. He knew that the true answer wouldn't be what she wanted to hear.

"Just tell me the truth. You've caused enough of a crisis that you owe me that much."

"Because I thought it would be easier than this. I thought that because we hadn't got divorced, you were just as stuck as I was and we could make another go of it. I thought it would be easier for both of us to just… come back to what we know."

Belle shook her head in disbelief, unable to articulate for a few minutes.

"You thought I'd be a pushover," she said quietly, translating his words. "You thought I'd be so desperate I'd come back to you just because you offered. You thought that because I hadn't made a clean break, I was hanging on, lost and lonely, waiting for you to come back and sweep me off my feet again. No wonder it threw you for six when you learned I was having a good time and I'd found someone new. You haven't had as much fortune as I have in starting afresh; haven't found anyone better yet, so why not come back to what you know?" She snorted. "I'm not going to reconcile with you just to boost your bruised ego."

"No, Belle, I love you, I swear."

Belle shook her head again. Whilst it might be true, it wasn't his primary reason. He was acting out of cowardice and indolence first and foremost, unwilling to make a break and leap into the unknown like she had done, wanting the comfortable, easy stasis that he had always had with her before the arguments started.

"You know, I think you were right when you called it breathing space," she said. "I always felt so stifled when I was with you. Now I can breathe, and I don't want to lose that ability because it is so wonderful a feeling. The reason I never started a divorce is because I just wanted to get out, and once I was out, I never wanted to look back. I still don't. Nothing you say will change that. But now I know that I will never be able to get out properly until there is nothing between us. I'm filing for divorce, Gary."

Gary shook his head.

"You're just rushing into this because you're angry. Please Belle," he wheedled. "Think about it."

"You're right. I am angry. I'm bloody livid that after everything you've done and everything you've just said, you're still trying to convince me to change my mind. And I have thought about it. I've been thinking about it for two years, so it can hardly be called rushed."

Belle wanted to throw him bodily out of the front door and yell 'you'll be hearing from my lawyer!' like she had seen on the TV so many times, but she knew she couldn't.

"Mr Spencer!" she called instead. "Could you come in here for a moment please?"

The former solicitor stepped into the kitchen, Moe following behind, still looking grim.

"What happens when I begin a divorce?" Belle asked plainly.

"You will file a petition with your solicitor, who will then send Mr Hunter a letter asking him to respond to the petition. If both parties agree to the terms, which is likely since, as I said before, there are no financial issues to be taken care of between you, more letters are exchanged and a decree nisi will be issued. After this there is a waiting period of six weeks before the application for absolute is made, and the divorce is complete. If there is no contention it will take roughly four months, possibly less in an uncomplicated case."

"Mr Spencer is a retired solicitor," Belle explained to the obviously perplexed Gary. "He kindly came down with Dad to give me some advice this morning."

Gary looked utterly defeated. His grand master plan of getting his cosy life back had been shot down in flames, because Belle was not, and would never be, going to budge. He threw his hands up.

"Well, it looks like you're serious about this and nothing will convince you to change your mind." He shrugged. "I can't force you to be married to me."

It was the most sensible and kindest thing he'd said to her since he'd arrived on Ruby's doorstep the previous evening.

"Thank you," Belle said, breathing an inward sigh of relief. "Mr Spencer, could you please do as you offered and set the wheels in motion?"

"One of my colleagues will contact you within the week to discuss the terms of your petition, Ms French," Mr Spencer replied with a little bow.

Gary looked at her, and she saw the vestiges of genuine sadness in his eyes. She had always known that the relationship was doomed far before he had, but he had agreed to their separation without hesitation; he hadn't really tried to change her mind at the time. He had agreed when she said it wasn't working and she wanted to end it.

"There's just one thing I can't get out of my head," he began. "Do you think… Do you think it would have worked if you hadn't lost the baby?"

Belle froze as something inside her snapped and all her self-control came shuttering down in a chaotic collapse. Just one word had done it, one single pronoun. _You._ _You _lost the baby. Not _we_. _You _lost the baby, and that was the catalyst, ergo it's all your fault.

"All right," she heard Moe say. "I think you'd better leave now, Gary. The conversation's over." His tone was a warning one. "You're fast outstaying your welcome."

_You_ lost the baby. It was an accusation, blaming her miscarriage for the breakdown of their marriage. Belle didn't mind being blamed. She had been the one to end it, yes, she accepted full responsibility in that sense, yes. But it had nothing to do with the baby. Her hands curled into fists.

"We were falling apart before that," she whispered. "You know deep down that we were. So don't you dare blame me in that way. Don't you dare insinuate that it's my fault purely because I couldn't carry the baby to term."

"Out!" Moe growled.

"Belle, I didn't mean it like that, you know I didn't!" Gary's voice was high and panicked, and Belle believed him, but the damage had been done. After everything else, it was just one wrong word too many.

"That's it." Moe grabbed Gary by the shoulder and pulled him out of the kitchen. Mr Spencer politely excused himself and vanished discreetly into the living room.

Belle rested her shaking fists on the worktop, willing herself to calm down. It didn't matter anymore. It was over. No matter what Gary might say, it was all just words. She was going to get divorced and she was not going to regret it.

"Bells? Belle? He's gone, Sweetheart, and I warned him not to come back and upset you. And if he does once I've gone, just call the police, all right?" Moe's voice pervaded her perception. She looked up at him, standing beside her at the counter and blinked, but her eyes were surprisingly dry. No doubt the tears – of shock, anger, relief – would come later.

"How strong was your warning?" she asked weakly.

"My hand may have accidently somehow made contact with his head," Moe admitted. "But I didn't draw blood. Won't even leave a bruise, I swear."

Belle managed a smile.

"If he'd only said 'we' instead of 'you'," she murmured. "I'd have been fine. My answer would have been the same, it always will, but I wouldn't have minded the question."

"I know, Sweetheart. I know. But it's all over now. Do you want another cup of tea? How are you feeling?"

Belle took a deep breath, and thought about her answer carefully. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders, one she hadn't even realised she'd been carrying, being so used to it for such a long time.

"I've no idea how to describe it," she said.

Moe just gave her a hug.

Much later, after her dad and Mr Spencer had taken her out for an impromptu and slightly late Sunday lunch as a pseudo-celebration and she'd waved them on their way, and the inevitable tears had come in their floods and she'd phoned Ruby for moral support, Belle was still wondering how to describe her feelings when her phone rang.

It was Emma.

"Erm, Belle, I'm not quite sure how to tell you this; you're never going to believe me, but I swear I'm not making it up."

"What?" Belle asked warily.

"Graham's just arrested Gary."

"What!"

"Drunk and disorderly, causing a disturbance," Emma continued. "I swear I'm not making it up, honestly."

"No, no, I believe you." It wasn't the first time. Belle remembered having to go and bail him out on a couple of occasions back in the day. Such beautiful irony. She began to laugh.

"Belle? Belle? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. I'm laughing, not crying."

"Oh, that's all right then." Emma sounded incredibly relieved. "I had no idea how you'd take it but I had to let you know."

As Belle began to relay a potted version of the day's events to Emma, she finally realised how she felt. She drawn a line under her and Gary, and no matter what her conversation with Gold might bring, the line was there to stay. She would not go back simply because he was there, like Gary had wanted to do with her. She knew how she felt.

She felt _free_.

* * *

**To be continued. I admit here and now to a tendency to vilify Gaston/Gary, but I tried to temper my enthusiasm slightly. He's not **_**evil**_**, just very misguided. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **Mary Margaret's quote is taken from 'A White Rose' by John Boyle O'Reilly. It's a sweet little poem, perfect for Rumbelle, I feel.

**Note: **I forgot to thank the guest reviewers at the beginning of the last chapter, so here's double thanks in lieu! Warning: Implied sex references towards the middle of the chapter. Sorry about the delay folks, sometimes these things just can't be helped. I had a nasty cold and then a family emergency had to take precedence.

Shout out to a lovely lady who gave me valuable advice during this chapter and the next couple. You know who you are.

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Gold pinched the bridge of his nose. He really couldn't afford to get a headache now, because popping pills in front of clients was somewhat frowned upon as unprofessional. The woman sitting on the other side of his desk was simply too much to be believed. If it wasn't for the dull ache in his knee and the threatened pounding at the back of his skull, he'd say he was dreaming. By the time she'd been talking for ten minutes, he genuinely pitied the poor soul who'd married her and paid for her plastic surgery, and he was wondering why he'd ever become a divorce specialist. Mrs Morton was out for everything she could get, and whilst she was technically the injured party, Gold couldn't say he blamed her husband for running away with another woman. It was only the thought of her two children, sitting quietly in the corner of his office and trying desperately to ignore what was happening, that kept him going. They were obviously living in something tantamount to a miniature battlefield and that, Gold thought as he wearily continued to make notes, was why he had become a family lawyer. He let his prospective client gabble on for a while, keeping an eye on the younger occupants of the office. The girl had clamped her hands over her ears, and Gold shook his head.

"Mrs Morton, may I suggest we adjourn this consultation until a time when your children are not present?"

"I know, I shouldn't have brought them really, but it's so hard to get a decent babysitter these days, especially in the after school hours. I'm sorry, are they being a problem for you?"

"Not at all, they're behaving impeccably, but I'm concerned that your daughter is getting quite distressed by the proceedings." He nodded over her shoulder to the corner behind the filing cabinets where the children were ensconced. She twisted in her seat.

"Oh, Lily, what's the matter, love?"

But before the girl could answer, Mrs Morton's phone rang, and Gold's teeth were set on edge. It was one of his little irritations; he always switched his mobile off and redirected his desk phone during consultations and he expected the courtesy to be reciprocated. Unperturbed by his expression, she fished the phone out of her bag and answered it.

"Hello, John," she said icily. "Yes, I'm at the solicitor's. I'm sitting in his office right now, actually." Gold fought hard not to roll his eyes. He hadn't agreed to take the case yet. "Oh, for crying out loud, I'm hanging up now, we're wasting Mr Gold's time."

_Oh no,_ Gold said to himself coolly. _It's not my time you're wasting. I charge by the hour, so please feel free to continuing arguing in my presence. I'm being paid for it. _He got up and made his way over to the children, leaning on the cabinet.

"Hello," he said to the older boy, who was doing his best to comfort his sister. "I thought I'd have a bit of chat with you whilst your mum's engaged. What's your name?"

"Freddie."

"Is it always like this, Freddie?" Gold had learned, in his twenty-five years of practising divorce law, that one could often gauge a relationship best by asking the children.

The boy grimaced.

"All the time. Even in public - _especially_ in public. It's horrible."

"Have they spoken to you about what's happening?"

"A bit. Mum and Dad are splitting up and fighting over us."

Gold nodded. It was a true, if blunt, summary.

"Have you thought about who you would like to live with, if and when it comes down to it? It doesn't matter if you don't know."

The boy shrugged.

"I don't care, as long as they stop arguing. Lily wants to stay with Mum though."

"And you want to stay together, presumably."

He nodded.

"Right, I'm sorry about that." Mrs Morton hung up and threw the mobile back into her handbag with a certain degree of vehemence.

"Mrs Morton, I have considered the facts of your case," Gold said, returning to his desk. "And I would be unwilling to take it unless you resign yourself to its failure in its current form. Compromises must be made if you want to avoid a very prolonged process. It will be easier for both parties, and for your children, and it will be infinitely _cheaper_, to make your terms slightly more reasonable."

The woman's eyes flickered to the door.

"My colleagues would say the same," Gold said levelly. "You are perfectly at liberty to choose another firm if you wish, but you won't find another practising family specialist in the town at the moment."

_In other words, if I say it will fail, it will fail._

Mrs Morton's eyes narrowed. Gold shrugged and continued.

"Just stating a fact. If you accept those terms, then I suggest we make an appointment to discuss your petition later in the week. I also suggest that you try to leave your daughter at home, for her sake."

"Right." The woman was a little shaken up, and if Gold was being brutal then she needed it. They shook hands, and Gold escorted Mrs Morton and her family to the landing. He caught Lily's eye.

"Chin up," he whispered.

Her mouth twitched in a near-smile, which was the best he was going to get. He watched them leave; Kathryn locking the door behind them. It was five o'clock and the office was officially closed. Regina and Sid had both disappeared off early having had no appointments, but everyone else remained, tidying up, finishing last minute paperwork. Gold went back into his office and shut the door, getting out his paperwork and settling himself in his chair again. It was Monday, which meant it was working late day. Gold had always adhered to the philosophy which stated that the more he got done on a Monday, the less likely he was to have to stay late on a Friday in a mad rush. It also gave him something to occupy his mind for the hour between his close of business and meeting Belle after hers. He could hear footsteps and swearing from upstairs, so knew that he was not alone, even if the middle floor had fast become deserted in the twenty minutes after closing time.

Gold peered under the desk at the yellow roses hidden there somewhat nervously. Having made his second trip to _Fairest Flowers _ in three days and assured Mary Margaret that she could tell the entire world and his dog that these were definitely for Belle if she so wished, he could only hope that he'd made the right choice. Ordinarily he would have been canny and chosen a different shop, but the idea was a spur of the moment one during his lunch hour and the only other florist he knew was on the other side of the town.

Mary Margaret had said that she would only tell people if asked, and had proved most helpful.

"Belle loves roses," she'd said, "but she grew up with floristry so she's cursed by always reading into the meanings of flowers." She'd led him through to the buckets of roses and pointed out the colours.

"There's an old poem that sums it up pretty well: _The red rose whispers of passion, and the white rose breathes of love; O the red rose is a falcon and the white rose is a dove._"

Gold had decided against red or white. The sentiments were genuine, but the message was strong, and he didn't want to overwhelm her.

"Yellow roses generally symbolise friendship and goodwill," Mary Margaret had said. "They're inherently positive. And yellow and blue are Belle's favourite colours, but I haven't got any blue roses. My advice would be the yellow."

Gold had taken her up on it. She'd selected four of the brightest blooms and arranged them around an olive twig – _"peace offerings are always appreciated"_– before tying them with simple twine. They'd been sitting in a mug of water under his desk all afternoon.

His head was becoming harder to ignore so he opened his desk drawer and emptied it of medication, trying in vain to remember when he'd last had what pills and whether he could mix prescription and over-the-counter painkillers. He was just trying to work out whether he was in danger of exceeding the maximum dosage when his desk phone – reconnected since his secretary had left for home – rang. Gold picked it up and leaned back in his chair, still pouring over labels.

"Guildhall Law, Mr Gold speaking."

"Good, you're there." It was Regina, brusque as usual. She sounded rather breathless. "Are you busy?"

"That depends entirely on your definition of 'busy', Ms Mills." He struggled to make out the noise in the background on the other end of the phone. It sounded like Sidney, but rather more incoherent than usual.

"Good. I've just had a call from a client…" Regina went on to describe her predicament, saying that on any other occasion she'd handle the unexpected problem herself or get Marina to do it, but Marina wasn't there and Regina herself was slightly tied up at that point in time, and could Gold possibly step into the breach?

"From your breath rate and the mumbling in the background, I can tell why you're too busy to handle this yourself, and I would have thought that, being accurate, it was Mr Glass who was tied up. Congratulations on your reconciliation, by the way."

"Oh, shut up," Regina snarled. "Will you do it or not? It's way past closing, you can't have much on at the moment."

"Neither can you and Mr Glass, from the sound of it." Gold glanced at the clock, it was almost time for him to leave to meet Belle in the cathedral green after the café closed at six. "As much as I have to admire the audacity of the woman who phones one colleague to bail her out of trouble whilst entertaining another one in her bedroom, I have a prior engagement this evening."

"I told him I'd get this sorted tonight!" Regina hissed. "It's one piece of paper, for crying out loud!"

"Never make promises you can't keep, dearie. Now, I suggest you get your knickers on and get down here to pick up your paperwork before it's too late. Whether you untie Mr Glass before you leave is entirely up to you. I'll see you tomorrow."

Gold put the phone down, slightly alarmed when someone outside his office burst out laughing. He opened the door to find Marina bent double, practically howling.

"That was priceless!" she gasped.

"According to Regina, you aren't here," Gold pointed out.

"I was in the archive box," Marina said airily. Gold raised an eyebrow. That explained the swearing from upstairs earlier. "My mobile's off, so as far as Her Majesty knows, I'm not here. I was just coming to tell you that I'm off now so you'll have to lock up everything."

Gold pulled his coat off the hook on the back of his door.

"I too am off very shortly, Miss Tempest. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Have a good evening, Mr Gold. And thank you for the entertainment."

"You're welcome."

Gold collected the flowers from under the desk.

"Here goes nothing."

X

Belle looked up at the clock on the wall and groaned before resting her head in her hands. Fate hated her. That could be the only explanation for her finding herself in her current position.

"Belle? What's up?"

Ashley's fingertips brushed Belle's shoulder-blade, evidently trying to provide some comfort, but she couldn't reach any further. The poor woman had been in labour for the past five hours and was still able to find it in her to worry about Belle.

"Nothing, nothing, you just focus on not having the baby until Sean gets here."

"Belle, I don't believe you-ARGH!" Ashley swore violently as another contraction ripped through her. "Take it easy!" she moaned to her stomach once she had calmed. "We aren't ready yet! Your daddy isn't here and Belle's upset so hang on a minute."

"An hour ago you were screaming for someone to 'get this baby out of me as soon as humanly possible'," Belle pointed out.

"I'm pregnant, and I won't be for much longer. Let me use the mood swing excuse whilst I still can. So come on, tell me what's up. It'll take my mind off everything."

Belle sighed, still not looking up.

"I made a date with Gold to talk about everything that happened on Saturday and I should have been at it two hours ago. I was never going to leave you on your own, but I haven't told him what's happened. When I had the chance I'd clean forgotten in all the excitement."

"Oh, Belle, I'm so sorry, I had no idea…"

"Ashley, you're giving birth unexpectedly two-and-a-bit weeks early. You haven't exactly orchestrated this on purpose."

"Go and phone him now, before it's too late. You need to patch things up. I'll be ok on my own for a bit. If anything dramatic happens you'll probably hear me yelling from outside anyway."

Belle looked up and smiled weakly. Ashley returned the expression with a lot more enthusiasm.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Now scoot!"

Belle left the maternity unit and moved through the hospital towards the entrance, thinking of the events that had led her to her situation and proved that fate really did have a thing against her.

She'd swapped her shifts with August so that she could have a full day to prepare, not that it had helped in the slightest, as when three o'clock had come round, she'd still had absolutely no idea what she was going to say past 'I'm really sorry'. At three o'clock, however, her phone had rung, and on picking up she discovered a very panicked Ashley on the other end, near hysterical because her contractions had started. Sean was at work and she couldn't get in touch with him until his shift ended, and Belle had been her next point of contact. Dutifully, Belle had dropped everything and rushed over to help, in that moment utterly blind to everything else. Including her meeting with Gold.

She reached the door and turned her phone on. She had three missed calls from Gold, but he hadn't left her a message. Immediately, Belle hit redial.

"Come on, pick up," she murmured. "Please pick up."

The phone rang and rang until voicemail kicked in.

"Gold, it's Belle, I'm so sorry I missed our date, I'm at the hospital with Ashley. She's having her baby, it was an emergency. I'm so sorry."

There was no point in asking him to ring her back. She'd have to switch her phone off again when she went inside. Belle stared down at the mobile in her hands. In that moment, although she'd always prided herself on remembering details, she couldn't remember his landline.

She tried Sean again on the off-chance he'd come off his shift early, but no luck. Finally, in an act of desperation, she rang Ruby. Ever reliable when it came to being on hand on date nights, her friend picked up after two rings.

"Hey, how did it go?"

"It didn't," Belle said grimly, and explained the situation.

"Oh, Belle… What do you need me to do? I can't really go anywhere at the moment because Granny's at bingo and the buses have stopped till the night service starts, but I can ring people up for you."

"I need you to find Gold's landline number in the phone directory and…"

"Belle…" Ruby's voice was soft and apologetic. "Belle, the directory's older than four months. He won't be in there."

"Oh."

"Have you got his address? I could call directory enquiries, I think their records are more up to date."

Belle shook her head.

"I don't know it."

There was a long pause, and Belle closed her eyes.

It was official. Fate _loathed_ her.

"Belle, if you left him a message then he'll understand, you can't do more than that. Listen, I'll get Granny to drive us over as soon as she gets in from bingo. We can give you a lift home if nothing else."

Knowing how long bingo lasted, and knowing Granny's tendency to chat afterwards, and knowing how long it would take a pensioner in a very old Ford Fiesta to drive from Station Road to the hospital, in the dark, Belle could work out that Ruby and Granny wouldn't be arriving until close to midnight. But she'd come in the ambulance with Ashley and didn't have the money for a taxi, so a free lift was not to be sneezed at, whenever it came.

"Thanks, Ruby. I just… I can't believe all this is happening! Today! Why doesn't fate like me?" she moaned.

"Because fate is a sod," Ruby said helpfully. "Hang in there, Belle. We'll be there as soon as we can. See you later, chickie, and I'm only on the other end of the phone if you need me."

"I know. Thank you. I'd better get back to Ashley. She's putting a brave face on it but I can tell she's terrified."

"You go and give her moral support, then. Chin up, Belle. Bye."

"Bye, Ruby."

She looked down at her phone, giving it five minutes before she gave up and went back inside.

The curtains had been drawn across in front of Ashley's door when Belle arrived back in the maternity unit. She knocked cautiously.

"Ashley?" she called warily. A nurse poked her head round the curtain.

"Are you Belle? There's not a problem. Ashley's water broke about ten minutes ago so we were just changing the bed linen. You can go back in."

Belle peered into the room.

"Honestly, I leave you alone for half an hour."

"Yep. You missed all the fun." Ashley's tone was light but her eyes were scared. "It's all happening so quickly. Where the hell's Sean?"

"Don't worry," Belle tried to reassure her friend. "When my mum had me, there were still six hours between her water breaking and me screaming."

"Six hours!" Ashley threw her head back against the pillows. Belle perched on the edge of the bed, and Ashley took one of her cold hands.

"How was it?" she asked. "Did he understand?"

"Couldn't get through," Belle said. "I left him a message."

Ashley squeezed her hand.

"He'll understand. He couldn't have got to where he is in his career without some understanding of human nature, and your friend giving birth is a pretty extreme excuse to use to get out of a date." She gave a tired smile. "I know it'll be fine. And you should believe me more than anyone else prophesising, because unlike them, I know both of you and your quirks." She paused. "I hear my temp hasn't run away traumatised yet."

"Not yet, but Gold and Sid are working on it."

"I'm impressed, and in debt. I bet with Marina it would only be four days. She's been giving me office updates." Ashley raised an eyebrow. "I was right about Sid and Her Majesty, you know."

Belle shook her head.

"I'd have to see it to believe it. Actually, I don't particularly want to see that."

They stayed talking for a few more minutes when suddenly, Sean's voice could be heard in the corridor.

"Ashley? Ashley?"

Belle peered round the door and waved. Sean skidded over, and stayed staring at them for a while.

"It's all right," Ashley prompted. "You haven't missed the birth."

"But you rang me to say you were having the baby _six hours ago_!"

"Sean, you came to ante-natal with me. You know how long it can take."

"Yeah…"

Sean sank into the chair beside the bed to get his breath back. Ashley laughed.

"Oh, come here you worried thing. I'm so, so pleased to see you. You have no idea."

Belle left the couple to their own devices. There wasn't much she could do now except wait for Ruby and Granny, so she went outside to switch her phone on. Just in case Gold had tried to ring her back.

There was nothing.

It was a cold night and Belle's teeth were beginning to chatter, so she had to concede defeat and come back inside. She made her way back up to the waiting room in the maternity unit, finding herself a seat in one corner next to the vending machine and watching over the occupants, sitting and pacing alternately. After a couple of minutes, Sean came in.

"Thanks for everything, Belle."

"No worries. That's what friends are for."

"Ash told me what you missed. I hope it all works out."

Belle looked down at her phone, still in her lap even though it was off. She determined to check every hour. Just in case. Sean couldn't be hoping harder than she was.

* * *

**To be continued**


	14. Chapter 14

**Note:** I know, I know. I'm a very evil author and it seems like I'm doing everything in my power to keep them apart. But the update is here, everyone can put down their wooden spoons, cheese graters and various other kitchen implements that they're wielding in a threatening manner now…

Thank you guest reviewers! Warning: Strong language at the beginning of the chapter.

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Third of November 2002. Four forty-nine PM. Morestead Road. Sixty limit. Beginning to rain. Bae in the passenger seat chattering nineteen to the dozen. They won, three-nil, Bae scored. _

_Morestead hill. Sixty limit. Raining. Blind summit. Van coming the other way. Slow down. Car coming the other way. Car on the wrong side. Fuck! Hit the brakes. Other car swerves. Not enough. Spinning, sliding, steer into the skid. Too little, too late. Tree. FUCK! "Dad!"_

_Impact. Black out. _

"_Bae? Bae? Bae, are you all right?" Right leg trapped. Agony. Probably broken. "Bae?" No reply. Look left. Take it in. Bae. Bae's face. Blood everywhere. Bae's eyes. Open. Glassy. Staring. Very, very dead. "Bae!"_

_Throw up. Black out. _

Gold woke with a start, gasping for breath and drenched in cold sweat. He was no stranger to the nightmare – he'd had it on a near-daily basis in the months following the accident – but it had been a long time since he'd last dreamed of the crash. Gold groaned and sat up, taking in his surroundings and peeling off his soaked shirt. It was a sign, it had to be, a sign telling him to tell Belle. With a guilty feeling of something akin to indulgence, he wondered what it would be like to have Belle beside him on a night like this, to hush and comfort and hold him, murmuring nothings and not caring if he cried to her. The nightmare itself was bad enough, but sometimes, Gold found that waking up alone after it was even worse. This time, it wasn't so bad. He was in the living room with the lights and the TV still on, so he'd evidently fallen asleep in front of the CSI triple bill, all three episodes of which he'd seen before – small wonder he'd nodded off then. After he'd come home from the date-that-wasn't, Gold had settled himself down in the living room to wait for a call that might or might not come, determining not to drown his sorrows in Glenmorangie in case the call did come and he was too plastered to deal with it appropriately. Belle hadn't rung, or the phone would have woken him up sooner. Gold felt for his mobile and realised with a sinking heart that it was in his suit jacket, thrown over the arm of a chair ten feet away. If she'd rung that, he wouldn't have heard it buzz even if he hadn't been asleep at the time.

He cursed loudly. God, he was an _idiot_.

Gold heaved himself off the sofa and grabbed his jacket, fumbling in all his pockets until he found the phone. Belle had rung and left a message, three quarters of an hour ago. He swore again and listened to the voicemail.

Well, that certainly explained why she hadn't turned up in cathedral green at six o'clock, then. He hadn't really suspected that she'd done a bunk on him; he knew there had to be a good reason, but as time had gone on, naturally he'd become more concerned.

He hit redial but her phone was off. There was no answer on her landline, either, so she was more than likely still at the hospital. Gold ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Time to weigh up his options.

Thank God he'd decided against the whiskey.

X

_The eighteenth of February 2010. One twenty-six AM. Wake up. Stomachache. Really bad, like period pain. Worse than that. Can't be that anyway. Feel sick. Run to bathroom. Retch. Nothing to come up. Morning sickness starting early today. _

(Belle had had the dream so many times before that she knew what was coming next.)

_Warm and wet down below. Fuck. Look down. Blood everywhere. Fuck! Try to scream, no words come out, voice choked round fear in throat. Voice a whisper, "Gary! Gary! Call an ambulance!" The baby… "Belle?"_

(That wasn't right. She'd had to call him another couple of times before she got enough volume to actually get a response. The voice was wrong too. In her lucid dreaming state, Belle's brow furrowed. It sounded different. Softer, gentler, more Scottish.)

"_Belle?" Fingertips on her hand._

(That was wrong too. Gary had never done that before.)

"_Belle?"_

"Belle?"

Belle opened her eyes to see Gold sitting in the chair next to her, his fingers brushing softly over her knuckles to wake her. She blinked a few times, taking a moment to work out where she was. It was the maternity unit waiting room; she was sitting in one corner with her head resting on her knees. She looked at Gold again.

"I got your message," he began. He looked sheepish. "About half an hour ago."

"You're here." _Well, state the blinking obvious. _Gold smiled.

"That I am."

"I thought you didn't like hospitals."

He shrugged.

"They're easier when you're not the patient."

Belle couldn't help herself, and she threw her arms around him. Although caught by surprise, he put his free arm around her, patting her back before they released each other by unspoken agreement, the angle rendering the embrace awkward.

"How's Ashley doing?" Gold asked.

"Better now Sean's here. She had her first contraction at half-one this afternoon but she ignored it because she's two weeks early. She had her second at three and then she freaked out and called me. I can't tell you much really, I've been napping on the job…"

Gold tutted.

"As bad as Dawn." He paused. "How are _you_ doing?"

Belle leaned her head back against the humming vending machine.

"Better now you're here." She smiled. "I'm sorry. Just on top of everything else, I'm beginning to think that fate's got my number. It's been one of those evenings."

Gold laughed.

"Aye. A sod."

They stayed quiet for a while in the corner of the room, Belle with her knees drawn up to her chest and Gold with his bad leg stretched in front of him.

"Do you want to talk?" he offered presently. His voice was perfectly neutral but there was a spark of hope in his eyes. Belle nodded. They might as well; who knew what fate might throw up in their direction if they didn't grab this opportunity whilst they still had it?

"Let's get some of that dishwater they market as coffee," she suggested.

"Yes, I've never understood it. Why does food become inedible as soon as it crosses the threshold of a hospital?" Gold asked. "I mean, it's the same basic stuff that goes everywhere else, but I swear hospital food is unique. Maybe they disinfect it as a precaution and it has a knock-on effect."

Belle couldn't help but laugh as she swung her legs off the chair, and they left the waiting room together. Belle paused at the exit.

"Do you think I ought to tell Ashley I'm scuttling off for a bit?" she asked. Gold shrugged.

"Up to you."

"Hmm." Belle thought for a moment before nipping back and knocking on Ashley's door.

"It's me," she said.

"Come in," Ashley called, and Belle entered. "Not long now. Hopefully."

Belle smiled.

"I'm going for a coffee," she said, before adding. "You were right about Gold."

Ashley raised an eyebrow.

"He got my message," Belle continued. "He's, erm, here."

Ashley's eyes widened.

"Right," she said. "If that's not love I don't know what is. He _hates_ hospitals."

Belle just rolled her eyes.

"From the look of it, he literally dropped everything and came. Maybe he wants to rescue me from the building's perils. Hang in there, Ash."

She ran to catch up with Gold. They found the canteen more by luck than judgement, Gold joking that they simply had to follow the smell of cabbage.

"So," Belle said once they were sitting in the near-empty canteen opposite each other and had exchanged a couple more opening pleasantries; the only other occupants at that time of the evening were mainly staff on the night shift. They were going to have to bite the bullet sooner or later and talk about what they had been meant to talk about earlier. "Long stories. Do you want to go first or shall I?"

"I will. I'll be as succinct as I can."

Gold took a deep breath.

"As you know, I have an ex-wife, Liz. We were married for ten years, and we divorced fifteen years ago. There was no-one else involved, we just… wanted different things, I guess." He paused. "We had a son. Baelfire. Bae for short."

"Had?" Belle prompted softly.

"He died," Gold continued. "Ten years ago on Saturday. That's why I had to go to Winchester, what the flowers were for. My Bae's grave."

"Thirteen white lilies."

"He was thirteen."

Belle reached out and took Gold's hand, pressed flat on the table beside his mug. Their circumstances were very different, but she too knew the pain and grief of losing a child.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Car accident. I lost a son and gained a limp. It was hardly a fair exchange. Bae was killed instantly; blunt force trauma. He didn't suffer."

"I'm sorry. I know everyone says that, but I am."

"I know." He ran his thumb over hers. "You move on, but you never forget."

"I know." Belle sighed. "I had a miscarriage at twelve weeks. I still had nightmares about it tonight, nearly three years later." She snorted. "Being in the maternity unit probably didn't help on that score. I've never really had much of a problem being around children, babies, pregnant women. No trouble with Emma and her son, none all through Ashley's pregnancy. Just sometimes you wonder what might have been, you know?"

Gold nodded.

"I understand where you're coming from," he said. "Dawn's the same age as Bae would be now. You can't help thinking 'what if'. It makes you feel…"

"Like you've failed," Belle finished quietly. "Someone who's totally dependent on you, and even if it's not your fault, you feel like you've failed them."

"Yes." Gold let go of his mug and reached across the table for her other hand, their dishwater coffee momentarily forgotten.

"That's pretty much it," he continued. "Well, of course it isn't, but I hope it's enough for now."

Belle squeezed his fingers.

"It's enough," she said. "You already know most of my story, but I'll fill in the gaps." Belle took a deep breath of her own. "As you know, I have a soon-to-be-ex-husband, Gary. We met at school and we were together for just under nine years in total. After eight years I wanted to end it, but before I could make a clean break, I fell pregnant. We were married within two months and lost the baby a fortnight later. Things just went downhill from there. I moved here eighteen months ago to start afresh, and up until recently, I hadn't looked back. We'd been separated six months, I didn't just run away. I suppose I should have done something about getting a divorce, but at the time I didn't want holding back. It seems like chickening out but at the time I just wanted to get away more than anything."

"You did what you had to do to cope," Gold agreed. "After Bae died, once I was out of hospital and the funeral was over, the day before I was due back at work, I dropped everything and took off back to Glasgow for a week. I thought I was being a coward at the time, but sometimes there's a fine line between being brave and self-destructing. We've both walked it."

Belle looked down at their clasped hands on the table and up at Gold's face, open and accepting. They'd told each other what needed to be told, and they were still there, still hanging on. There was more to be said; naturally there would still be questions. Belle wanted to know about Bae; she wanted to imagine Gold with a son and without his cane, but those questions could wait for another time. Everything important was out on the table. There were no secrets now, no misunderstandings. It was evident that they had both been scared of laying out the cracks in their pasts for the other to see, and the reaction that they would receive, but when the time had come, it had been comparatively quick and easy. Belle sighed.

"I get the feeling we could have avoided all this if I hadn't lied about being a Miss when we first met. Well, if I'd corrected your assumption. I didn't really lie."

"Exactly," Gold said. "The two are very different." There was a smirk at the corner of his mouth that was trying hard not to turn into a full-blown grin.

"Technically…"

"I do thrive on technicalities. And believe me, the way things have turned out, I've no doubt that something would have happened and we'd still be sitting here having a similar conversation." He couldn't stop the smile now, and Belle had to give a snort of laughter of her own. "You're still Miss French to me, if that is what you prefer." Belle nodded. As Ruby had said, everyone, even those who knew her past, called her Miss. She had put her old name out of her new life along with everyone else. She couldn't have hoped to move on from Gary if she had still worn his name.

"Soon I will be a Miss again, properly. I talked to Gary yesterday, and we are definitely getting a divorce. Someone's handling it for me up north."

There was a long pause.

"We're a right pair of broken dolls, aren't we?" Belle said.

"We're not _broken_," Gold said. "Not really. We've _been_ broken, but we're mended now, we've picked ourselves up and carried on. There aren't any rough edges or obvious cracks, but we'll never be as good as new. We probably have enough baggage between us to fill a carousel at Heathrow."

"A burden is always lighter when shared," Belle said. "If you're willing to share mine, I'd like to share yours."

"I'm not exactly what you need," Gold pointed out.

"Are you trying to put me off?" Belle asked, her eyes narrowing.

"No."

"Good, because it's not working. I don't know what I need. I don't think I care. But you're what I want."

"I'm very glad, because you're what I want too."

Gold released his grip on her hands – Belle hadn't realised just how tightly they'd been holding on – before he stood and grabbed the back of his chair, dragging it round the table to sit beside her. Belle leaned in to his offered arm, resting her head on his shoulder as she had done in the gardens on their second date. It was only four days ago, but so much had happened since then. She glanced sideways at Gold.

"On the subject of dropping everything and just going," she began, "did you drop everything and come here? Because I hate to inform you, but you aren't properly dressed." She flicked his open shirt collar, tie-less as he was.

"Yes, well… Best to get these things sorted out sooner rather than later. I had no idea what you thought I might be up to when I didn't answer."

"What _were_ you up to?"

"I was either watching CSI or asleep. I just didn't hear the phone, that's all."

"So you shot out of the door as soon as you got my message?"

"Practically, yes. I have a feeling I even left the TV on, and I've only just remembered that I left your flowers in the sink."

Belle laughed.

"After everything that had already happened, I wasn't going to give anything the chance to throw a spanner in the works again," Gold continued. "So I thought it was time to just go for it. There was nothing to lose."

I'm very glad you did," Belle said.

"I think we've beaten fate now, though," Gold murmured. He leaned down to kiss her, and Belle accepted him gladly. It wasn't going to be plain sailing, nothing ever was. But now they were too determined to let anything more come between them. Perhaps running had been the right thing to do before, but it wasn't now. This time, it was cowardice that would lead to destruction, and they could help each other to be brave.

After a little while enjoying their togetherness, Belle looked up at the clock.

"I wonder how Ashley's doing," she murmured.

"I'm afraid I can't offer much reassurance," Gold said. "Bae was born in three hours flat from first contraction to holding him. We were incredibly lucky. He never liked to hang about."

Belle laughed and took a sip of her coffee, remembering it at last. It had gone stone cold and tasted vaguely of cabbage soup, so she decided it was probably better to leave it.

"Ruby'll be here soon," she admitted. "I phoned her in a panic earlier. She and Granny were coming to give me a lift home. It'll be a bit of a shock for them to go into the waiting room and find I'm not there."

"Do you want to go back?" Gold asked. Belle shook her head.

"Not yet." The lighting in the canteen was a bit softer than in the maternity unit, there was less bustle and noise. It was easier to think properly, rather than give in to the agitation that the fraught atmosphere of the waiting room seemed to inspire.

"Thank you," Gold said eventually. "For understanding."

"I should be the one thanking you. You ran out of your house, without a tie, no less, and came to a hospital to see me. And I'm not even a patient. I'm sorry, I shouldn't tease. Thank you, too." She sighed. "This conversation could have had so many endings. I like this one."

"So do I."

Belle was beginning to feel lethargic again in the warm room, and as inviting as it was to fall asleep in Gold's arms, she knew she shouldn't. It was quarter to midnight, and by the time they got back to the maternity unit, Ruby and Granny would almost definitely be there. Reluctantly, she pulled away and they left the canteen, walking back through the corridors together.

Belle was proved correct when she heard Ruby's voice from outside the waiting room.

"…but where is she if she isn't here?" she heard her friend say, her voice frantic.

"Ruby, calm down," Granny said. "She's probably gone for a coffee."

"But…Belle!" Ruby exclaimed on seeing her friend open the waiting room door, coming over and throwing her arms round her, narrowly avoiding hitting Gold in the face. "Where've you been? We came in here and… Hello, Mr Gold."

For possibly the first time in her life, the usually loquacious Ruby appeared to be utterly dumb-struck.

"I'm guessing there's a very long story behind this," she said eventually.

"Oh yes," said Belle. "One day, I'll tell it to you."

"So…" Ruby began, obviously wanting desperately to ask how things were without actually asking. She grinned when she looked down and saw Belle's fingers interlaced through Gold's.

"Everything's fine," Belle said.

"Well, I'm glad that's sorted out," said Granny firmly.

"So… now what?" asked Ruby, settling herself on a chair beside her grandmother.

"Since we're here, we may as well wait for Ashley," Granny suggested. "From what I can make out, it should be very soon. The nurse that I asked said the midwives had been in with her for the last half an hour."

"Belle!" Sean's voice came through the door, the man himself following a few moments later, beaming from ear to ear even if he was looking slightly faint. To his credit, he didn't bat an eyelid at finding three more people waiting on news of his partner and their child than there had been when he'd last looked. "It's a girl!"

"Oh Sean!" Ruby squealed and ran over to give him a hug. "Congratulations! Give all our love to Ashley. I'll bet she's knackered."

"She is, but she can't stop grinning. Neither can I."

"Has the little one got a name yet?" Granny asked.

"Alexandra," Sean said. "That's what we'd decided on for a girl. She's got a pair of lungs on her and no mistake. She was screaming so loudly I'm surprised you didn't hear her in here."

Soon everyone had given their congratulations and well wishes, and Sean had returned to Ashley. Ruby was chattering on to Granny in one corner, but Belle was still standing where she had been when Sean had run in, gazing at the door. Gold squeezed her hand and she looked up at him, smiling. The ghosts that could come between them were at rest, and they could now start their relationship afresh, with no secrets or fears.

It was a night of new beginnings all round.

* * *

**To be continued**

**See, all sorted. No evil cackles in sight. The next chapter will be the last, people. I can't believe it's almost done! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Note:** Thanks, guest reviewers! I am really sorry for the delay in posting this final chapter; it was due to family circumstances beyond my control causing writer's block. I'm very grateful for the little messages of 'where are you, are you ok?' that I've been getting. But it's here now, so enjoy!

**Note2: **Thank you to my editor/ resident-second-opinion-giver for her help this chapter. You know who you are.

* * *

**Carrot Cake**

**Fifteen**

**Epilogue**

**One Month Later**

"Belle. Belle? Belle!"

Belle, who had been transfixed by the lurid decorations tethered to the roofs of the buildings in town below the castle gardens, finally tore her eyes away from a pot-bellied purple reindeer and glowing blow-up Santa (who should have been waving but whose animatronics were not the best and who thus seemed to be doing something far less innocent) and looked up at Gold. He was watching her with an expression of amusement from outside the taxi, cane hooked over the top of the door for balance and other arm outstretched to hand her out of the vehicle.

"Sorry… It was the Santa on the top of the bed shop." She took his hand and got out of the car.

Gold peered over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's one way of dispensing Christmas cheer, I suppose."

Belle knocked his arm. "You're despicable."

"I know." Gold paid the driver and Belle slipped her arm through his to walk up to the castle, whose festive decorations were far more sedate: softly twinkling icicle lights hanging from the window frames and the bare trees in the grounds.

December had arrived, and with it the charity ball at the castle. For the past two weeks, it had been all Ruby had been able to talk about. She was incredibly excited at the prospect of finally getting to see Archie in a tux _("I love his jumpers, but it'll be nice to see how he scrubs up")_ and the opportunity to go dress shopping with Belle (_"Yes, I know you've already got one, but you can still try them on!" _). Belle herself was more amazed that they'd all managed to get tickets, considering it was on a first-come, first-served basis. She suspected that something had been going on behind the scenes, however, when she had seen Archie come out of the solicitors' building doing a passable impression of the Cheshire Cat, and he had proceeded to come into the café and say, in no uncertain terms, that Cinder-Ruby was definitely going to the ball. Despite being dragged round several department stores by her best friend and seeing some truly lovely dresses on offer, Belle had kept her promise to Ruby – not that she'd actually promised, but it seemed silly not to take her up on her advice – and was wearing her golden gown, its first airing in seven years. Privately, she was amazed that it still fit her, but any misgivings about it were completely dispelled when she'd opened her front door to Gold and had seen his reaction, which consisted of several seconds of speechlessness before giving her a devilish smile and the casual observation of 'I like the colour'. He'd then gone on to tell her that she was incredibly gorgeous, and Belle felt suitably justified in her attire.

Their progress up the drive towards the castle was a slow one.

"If I was in charge, I would forbid people from having gravel drives," Gold muttered, digging his cane between the stones with some vehemence in order to find purchase. Belle could only agree with him; she was having a similar problem with her stilettos. Eventually they made it to the steps and into the warm building, being greeted with the festive scents of mulled wine and gingerbread from the ballroom. Chilled from their brief time outside, Belle made a beeline for the table where the wine was being served. Gold shook his head when offered a glass.

"I'm going to get a proper drink," he said.

"Mulled wine is a proper drink!" Belle protested.

"No, it's not. It's…"

"Don't tell me, it's good red wine spoilt," she said playfully, and took a sip.

"No, it's bad red wine made worse," Gold countered.

"It'll warm you up," Belle wheedled.

"So will a double Scotch," Gold pointed out, "and it'll taste a lot better." He squeezed her arm. "Don't go away, I'll be back in a minute."

Gold disappeared off in the direction of the bar and Belle watched him, looking out for other people she knew and nursing her glass. She squealed as a pair of hands covered her eyes.

"Guess who," said a familiar voice behind her.

"Astrid?"

The hands let go and Belle whirled round to see Astrid grinning at her, Leroy a little way off getting mulled wine.

"What are you doing here? Not that it's not great to see you, but… I thought you were in Kent!"

"We were," Astrid said, "but we can always make a little weekend trip to see old friends. Leroy called in a few favours and here we are." She took her glass off her husband, only to give it back a split second later so that she could hug Belle.

"Didn't want to risk throwing it down your dress," she said sheepishly. "I've already spilt coffee and ketchup on our lovely new carpet."

"I've given up all hope of ever seeing it green again," Leroy sighed. "I've decided that next time, we're either having hard floors or living with dust sheets everywhere all the time."

"I'm not that bad," Astrid protested. "I haven't spilt anything on the bedroom carpet."

"Yet," Leroy muttered darkly. "It's only a matter of time before you have another home-pedicure accident and end up gushing blood all over the place."

"I'm going to assume that I don't want to know." Gold had come back from the bar with his whiskey and slipped his arm around Belle's waist. She laced her fingers through his over the top of his cane, and Astrid smiled.

"I'm glad you're sorted out," she said. "Things were still a bit up in the air when we left. I'm not quite as glad that Ruby phoned us at two o'clock in the morning to tell me, but I'm very happy for you." She touched the drop-shoulder on Belle's dress. "I think you certainly picked the most appropriate colour there."

Belle felt her blush rise, but before she could say anything, she was interrupted by a cry from somewhere in the vicinity of the canapés.

"Belle! Astrid!" Moments later, Ruby skidded up to them, dragging Archie with her. "It's so good to see you!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Astrid, who reciprocated the action in spite of wine, this time. At least Ruby's dress was bright red so any spillages would be less likely to show. Ruby turned to Belle and gave her dress the once over.

"I'm very impressed; part of me honestly didn't think you'd wear it. I'd had myself half-convinced that you'd have had a crisis of confidence at the last minute and gone out and bought something black and non-descript that made you fade into the background."

"Don't take any notice of her," Gold murmured in Belle's ear. "You could never fade into the background, whatever you were wearing."

The three waitresses continued to talk and bring each other up to date on the events that had transpired in the last month until Astrid spied someone from her old knitting group and pulled Leroy away to say hello, pausing just long enough to thrust her empty wine glass at Archie.

"This is why I don't like wearing a bow tie," Archie moaned. "People mistake me for a waiter."

"I think you look most dashing, Doctor Hopper," Belle said magnanimously.

"See, I told you so." Ruby batted his arm playfully. "You could be a ginger James Bond."

"Ouch," the psychiatrist muttered, rubbing his shoulder where Ruby had hit him.

"Aww, I wasn't that hard, surely." She purred, "shall I kiss it better later?"

Archie blushed, his face as always at odds with his hair. When Ruby had walked into the café one Friday, four days after Alexandra's birth, Belle had been left in no doubt that she and Archie had crossed their bedroom threshold the previous night. (_"It would have been absolutely perfect minus being woken up by Pongo licking between my toes this morning,"_ had been the verdict, but from all accounts, that certainly hadn't put her off going back for more.)

"Erm, is that Graham and Emma?" Archie said, quickly changing the subject.

"Where?"

"There."

"I'm looking over there!"

"No, not _there_, there!"

Belle took the empty wine glasses from Archie and announced, unnecessarily loudly, that she was going for a top-up, but Ruby was so engrossed in trying to find Emma that it was doubtful if the comment even registered.

"At last, a moment to ourselves," Gold sighed as they neared the wine table.

"You don't come to these things for peace and quiet," Belle pointed out. "You come to be sociable and talk to people."

"And get drunk on cheap red wine that's been heated up and had a couple of cinnamon sticks thrown in to try and make it more palatable." Gold wrinkled his nose at the smell. "I'm sociable and I talk to people as my day job, can't I have the weekends to be misanthropic?"

"No," Belle said plainly. Over the past month, she'd seen Gold at work a couple of times, their lunch dates having become a fairly regular fixture. On one occasion, she had ended up making a picnic bench of Gold's desk when his workload had taken an unexpected increase. On the one hand, it hadn't really been the most productive of dates as he'd spent more time talking on the phone or to Sid than he had to her, but she had seen a whole new side to him, the consummate professional who spoke in legal jargon and Latin and still managed to find time to kiss her between calls and bites of sandwich.

"All right then. And I have already seen one and a half of my colleagues, so I had better say hello."

"One and a half?" Belle asked incredulously.

"Fox is propping up the bar, and someone who I think was Dawn just dived under the canapé table when she saw him, but she moved so quickly I couldn't tell if it was her."

Belle wondered how much time Dawn spent hiding from her superiors under tables of various descriptions, and wondered if she ought to go and find the young trainee and coax her out with wine and gingerbread, but soon enough she was swept up into the evening; every time she thought that she'd said hello to everyone she knew, another customer would pop up from nowhere, or she'd find herself introduced to one of Gold's clients. More wine, more food, more music from the band on the dais at the far end of the room, occasionally being collared by Ruby, watching August flirting with three women at once, and all the time Gold was looking at her with an expression that turned her stomach in knots, as if he was only just stopping himself from sweeping her out of the ballroom and into bed.

They had not yet crossed their own bedroom threshold, much to Ruby's consternation; although they had come close a week previous on Belle's sofa. Unfortunately, Belle had chosen that moment to lean on the TV remote and they were interrupted by a politician being grilled about a recent sex scandal on Newsnight. By the time they'd finished laughing, the mood had gone. Now, however, as they sat together in one corner by the bar watching the events unfolding, she could tell that it was back, with a vengeance.

The next song was a slow one, achingly slow, the vocals low and bluesy. Belle turned to Gold.

"Dance with me?" she asked playfully.

"Belle… I've got three left feet here. Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"I'm not accepting any excuses," Belle said. "Leave the cane and lean on me instead. Come on." She got up and held her hands out to him. "Please? Just one dance. I love this song! We don't have to move much. Just hold me close and sway a bit. That's all slow dancing is, really."

Gold looked at her.

"I'm not going to be able to get out of this, am I?" Belle shook her head. "All right then. One dance." He grabbed her hands and pulled himself up, and she arranged him in a ballroom hold around her, right hand on her waist, left in her right, and she started to shift her weight in time to the music, taking the odd step between his firmly planted feet. Presently he put her right arm over his shoulder, taking her waist in both hands, pulling her in closer. She raised an eyebrow.

"More stability," he said. "Less likely to fall over on you."

"Of course,"

She rested her chin on his collar bone, peering over his shoulder, and sighed happily, feeling Gold lean into the top of her head and plant a kiss in her hair.

"See," she murmured. "Dancing isn't so bad."

"Depends on the partner."

Belle laughed and continued to observe the room, a sight making her snort.

"What?" Gold asked.

"Ruby's teaching Archie to dance."

"Now this I have to see."

They manoeuvred round a little so that they could both see.

"Actually," Gold continued, "I think Archie's teaching Ruby to dance."

Belle watched her friend for a little while, and the more she observed, the more she concluded that yes, it was Archie who was looking marginally more confident and Ruby who was glancing at her feet every step.

"It appears to be a cross between the rumba and the slow waltz," Gold observed drily, "so one of them must be wrong. Personally, I prefer our method by far."

Belle felt one of his hands slipping lower and lower down her back.

"More stability, less likely to fall over on me?" she asked with as much innocence as she could muster.

"Of course," Gold replied, but he was making no attempt to hide the husky note in his voice.

"Mr Gold, we are in public!" she said with mock indignation as his wandering fingers came to rest on her bottom.

"And?" He kissed her ear, possibly aiming for her cheek and missing. "Everyone's too drunk to notice, and there are people being far more indiscreet than we are."

Well, that was true; Belle had noticed the groping going on in the darker corners of the ballroom.

"You are truly lovely," Gold murmured into her hair. "Have I told you that you look gorgeous in that dress?"

"Yes, you have, but you're quite welcome to tell me as many times as you like."

"You look gorgeous in that dress."

"Thank you."

The song came to a close but neither of them made any indication of moving. Belle nuzzled in against Gold's neck.

"If you go on to say that I'd look even better not in my dress, I may have to get Graham to arrest you for offences against decent pick-up lines," she murmured.

"Wouldn't dream of it, my dear."

The singer was taking a break and the band struck up a very fast tune, so they were forced to move out of the way of the few people who knew how to polka. Surprisingly enough, August was one of them, and Belle had to laugh as he spun past them with his latest partner (the fifth different one that Belle had seen him with during the course of the evening) and she caught the words "Nepal" and "lemurs".

"The crowd is thinning a bit," said Gold, his voice matter-of-fact but his expression suggestive. "I don't think anyone would object if we were to… absent ourselves early."

Belle looked at him, eyes narrowed.

"Never let it be said that you don't have extremely good ideas, Mr Gold."

"Glad to hear it, Miss French. So, I take it that's a yes to me calling a taxi?"

Belle nodded.

"I'll just tell Ruby and Emma I'm leaving in case they're looking for me later. Actually…" She paused as she scanned the room. "I can't see Emma and Graham anywhere."

"Perhaps they pre-empted my extremely good idea," Gold suggested, getting out his phone. Belle raised an eyebrow and made her way over to Ruby and Archie, who were talking to a couple she didn't recognise and assumed were Archie's friends. She tapped Ruby's shoulder to get her attention.

"We're off," she said. "Could you tell Emma if you see her?"

"Going already?" Ruby protested. "The evening hasn't even degenerated into raucous karaoke yet!"

"It's gone midnight, Ruby."

"But…" Suddenly her friend cottoned on. "Ah, right." She gave a wicked grin. "Well, remember Granny's advice when it comes to men. Never put your mouth…"

Belle interrupted hastily.

"Yes, yes, I remember Granny's advice, and I remember that it's not really the sort that should be repeated in polite company."

"I'll see you on Monday then," Ruby said as Gold joined them. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

Belle rolled her eyes. "Bye, Ruby."

"I'm most intrigued to know Granny's advice," Gold said as they left the ballroom.

"Oh, I'll tell you if I'm required to put it into practice."

"Now I'm even more intrigued."

She looked at him demurely. "We ladies have to keep some secrets, you know."

Gold stopped suddenly and put out his arm to prevent Belle moving any further forward.

"I think we may be in for a little treat, my dear," he whispered. "I would hate to ruin Graham's moment with our untimely interruption when he's probably been building up to it for the last three weeks." He put his arm around her shoulders and they waited in the shadows of the entrance hall. Outside, Emma and Graham were standing alone at the top of the steps down to the drive; Belle craned to hear the words being spoken.

"I know it's generally good form to ask your parents' permission," Graham was saying, "but that's not really applicable here, so I asked Henry, because I thought that he was the most important person in your life. Anyway, if he'd had his way I'd have asked you there and then a fortnight ago, but, well…" He broke off. "I spend my days chasing after dangerous suspects and investigating all shades of crime and I'm scared of saying one sentence."

Emma squeezed his hands. "Just say it. It can't be harder than clearing five six-foot fences in pursuit of an errant drug-dealer."

"Emma, will you marry me?" The sentence came out as if spoken all as one word.

"Of course I will." Emma smiled. "I told you it would be easy."

"Oh, shut up." Graham pulled her in for a kiss, thereby silencing rather effectively her protests at being told to shut up by the man who'd asked her to marry him a mere thirty seconds previously.

"Oh, isn't it sweet?" Belle sighed. "The only thing that would make it more romantic would be if it was snowing."

"Hmm." Gold's reply was non-committal. "I am very happy for them, but we may have to distract them in order to get down the steps."

"Yes, I suppose we are in a worryingly voyeuristic position here. Maybe we can slip past without them noticing?"

Gold had other ideas, putting two fingers in his mouth and wolf-whistling.

"You!" Belle smacked his arm as Emma and Graham sprang apart and looked around for the culprit. Belle waved guiltily.

"Did you see the whole thing?" Graham asked faintly. "Oh my word."

"Congratulations!" Belle said, rushing over and hugging Emma.

"Thank you. But you can't tell anyone - especially not Ruby. I don't know what she'd think if she heard it second hand."

"Of course I won't tell! It's your news, after all." Belle smiled. "I see Henry's been helping you two along your way again."

"He's as bad as Ruby, I swear. I seriously need to keep them apart. Are you leaving already?" Emma asked. Belle nodded, and her friend gave her a knowing look. "Well, have fun. Stay safe."

"Emma!"

"It was a perfectly innocent statement!"

Belle raised an eyebrow but made no further comment on the subject. She and Gold said their goodbyes and left Emma and Graham alone at the top of the steps.

Thinking of Emma's future marriage made Belle think of her own divorce. Things were moving in the right direction, however slowly. Whilst both Spencer and Gold had assured her that it was a lengthy process and the delays were all par for the course, and even though Gary had shown no signs of putting up a fight, Belle couldn't help but worry each time another day went by without a word. Gold had said that he would give her any advice she wanted in a professional capacity, but he wouldn't force it on her if she didn't want it.

(_"Just be there," _had been Belle's reply. _"Just be on the other end of the phone if I want to moan about it all."_)

He had given his word and stuck to it. When Belle had had to make the unavoidable journey north to sign the necessary paperwork and meet her lawyer face to face at the end of November, Gold had gone with her for moral support (and to drive her quicker than she could make the train journey). It had been during this trip that he had first met Moe, purely by accident.

But that was a story for another time. At that moment, she was wearing her lucky knickers and Gold's fingertips were dancing up and down her arm where he held her into his side, and she was imagining those fingertips dancing elsewhere, and…

She shivered involuntarily. Gold sighed and released her, and the sudden rush of cold air where his body had been made her tremble again. He handed her his cane.

"Hold that." He pulled off his jacket and indicated for her to turn her back to him so he could put it on her instead, rubbing her upper arms. "I'll never understand how two people can go to the same place, one with naked arms and the other with two layers of sleeves."

"I've got a shawl!" Belle protested.

"It was hardly doing a very good job of keeping you warm, though." He slipped his arms round her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "So, to return to the world of really bad pick-up lines, your place or mine?"

"You know, I could really use another guided tour of your house. Particularly upstairs." Belle said lightly. "I can't for the life of me remember how it looks."

Actually, that was half-true. She could remember the contents, but the layout was fuzzy. The first time that Belle had seen inside Gold's home, she'd been transfixed by the sheer amount of stuff that he'd somehow fitted into it. For a scary moment, she had thought that there was some weight behind Ruby's obsessive-compulsive hoarder warning. But once she'd started asking about the stories behind the items, she'd been fascinated. She'd been a little ashamed of how small and empty her own little flat looked in comparison, but Gold had been equally dumbstruck by her number of books.

(_"Normally the first thing that everyone asks is if I've read them all,"_ Belle had said, to which Gold had replied that he liked to think he knew her well enough to know the answer would be yes.)

Belle closed her eyes, pushing the thoughts aside as a kiss to her neck brought her back to the present.

"Hmm. If you can't remember how it looks at all, I might need to make the tour rather in-depth, then," Gold mused. "Possibly to the extent of staying in one room for a rather prolonged period of time."

"Sounds like an excellent idea to me," Belle agreed, feeling one hand roam lower again and squeeze the curve of her hip through the layers of silken gown.

"Perhaps I could have a guided tour of something else in return," he growled. His accent had been getting progressively thicker over the last few minutes and Belle had to smile at his gradual loss of control.

"Guided?" She raised an eyebrow. "I thought men hated getting directions."

"Are you kidding?" Gold punctuated his words with kisses. "It means we don't have to spend too much time thinking. We're men; our brains can only be in one place at a time. And mine's not really in a thinking place right now."

"But when you're driving…"

"Yes, well, driving is different. But tonight, I am not driving. So, Miss French…" She could barely make out his final words through the brogue. "Feel free to direct me."

Belle twisted in Gold's arms to kiss him. Above them, back in the ballroom, the increasingly drunken revellers had begun a warbled chorus of 'I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day', seemingly to the tune of 'Silent Night'. Belle ignored them in favour of far more pressing matters, but she could hear the crunch of wheels on the gravel drive and knew that the arrival of the taxi would soon force the moment to be postponed. Idly she thought of the notebook stuffed in her satchel, untouched since the Sunday that Gold had first asked her out. Emma was right; the past few weeks had proven that reality was really nothing like fantasy.

Reality was far better.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

**I'd like to take this opportunity to thank in advance any guest reviewers, and say another thank you to everyone for your support and reviews and favouriting and alerting throughout this fic. **

**This is the end of 'Carrot Cake', but it may not be the end for this AU. If people are interested, I am more than willing to start a sequel of sorts, which would be a fic of one-shots detailing more moments in Belle and Gold's romance. (And perhaps the odd one in Ruby and Archie's and Emma and Graham's as well. Hell, I can even throw in Regina and Sid if you want!) **

**I am definitely amenable to suggestions so if there is something you'd especially like to see, then drop me a review or PM. **

**Till next time! WI x  
**


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